


The Letter

by Poppedthep



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Family, Feel-good, Feels, Friendship, Gen, Godfather Sirius Black, Harry Potter was Raised by Sirius Black, Light-Hearted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-09
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-05-04 15:03:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14595594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Poppedthep/pseuds/Poppedthep
Summary: Six year old Harry Potter accidentally sends a letter to Sirius Black in Azkaban. A feel-good, wholesome, heartfelt, hopefully fun Harry and godfather Sirius gen AU ensues. This is the story they should have had."Dear Sirius Black, Sorry to bother you. My name is Harry Potter. I think you might have known my parents..."





	1. Chapter One: The Letter

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic posted to Ao3! Very exciting! Thank you for joining me. 
> 
> Harry and Sirius Godfathery stuff is some of my absolute fave fic and I've loved this idea for years before finally getting around to writing it. I'm amazed it doesn't already exist (as far as I know) so I had to write it just to get the idea out into the world! Was originally going to be a very long one-shot but it's grown into a few chapters so buckle in!

 

 

> _Dear Sirius Black,_
> 
> _Sorry to bother you. My name is Harry Potter. I think you might have known my parents._
> 
> _I found an old letter from my mum to my Aunt Petunia when I was cleaning upstairs. She wrote two names in it. One was James Potter. I think that was my dad. The other name was you._
> 
> _I didn’t understand some of the letter but it sounds like you were friends with my parents and liked them a lot. I know it was a long time ago because I am 6 now and they have been dead since I was 1. So I am sorry to bother you now._
> 
> _But if you can remember them please can you tell me about them? I don’t know anyone else I can ask so even if you don’t get my letter or don’t remember them or don’t want to write back to me it’s okay. I just wanted to try._
> 
> _I really miss them and I wish I knew things about them. Even if you can only remember a little thing that you think is boring I want to know it. I’m not allowed to ask my aunt and uncle about them. The only time they talk about them is when they say my dad was a drunk. Was he a drunk?_
> 
> _I think about my mum and dad every day. Anything you can think of would be great. I said this already but I really miss them. It’s the main thing I think about almost all the time._
> 
> _Sorry again for bothering you._
> 
> _Best wishes,_
> 
> _Harry Potter_

Harry was pleased with his letter. He wasn’t the best at English or writing but he was very good for his age when he wasn’t pretending to be worse than Dudley and the letter said everything he wanted to say and he’d triple checked his spelling and grammar and done his neatest handwriting. He slipped it into the envelope the school receptionist had given him and turned it over to write “ _Sirius Black_ ” on the front.

Harry paused in dismay. How would he know what address to send the letter to? He realised with a sinking feeling he had no idea how to find out Sirius Black’s contact information. For all he knew Sirius Black could have died by now like his parents or live somewhere far away now or something equally unhelpful.

Harry considered his predicament, watching Dudley wrestle Anthony Albright on the school field from the safe vantage point of the bench. As Harry pondered, a large brown owl swooped low over his head and landed directly next to his arm, where it rested on the bench.

Harry had never seen an owl up close before. He’d definitely never seen one in his school playground before; especially not in the middle of the day.

The owl blinked calmly at Harry, eyeing him with patient curiosity. Owls were much bigger up close. Just as Harry was wondering what the owl was doing in his school, it darted forward and plucked Sirius Black’s letter from his hands with its beak.

“Hey!” Harry called at the owl, “Give that back!”

He stretched after the owl, trying to grab his letter back. But with a shake of its large wings the owl took off into the air, sailing over the roof of Harry’s school and out of sight.

How unfair! That owl had stolen his letter! Did owls eat post? Harry couldn’t remember hearing that before and it seemed like the kind of fact one would remember. Maybe the owl was like Dudley and could sense that it could just take Harry’s things if it wanted to.

Harry’s disbelief and surprise at the presumptuous owl turned to even more dismay as he realised that before he could even get back to the problem of finding out Sirius Black’s address, he’d have to write a replacement letter and get another envelope from the receptionist.

Harry tore another sheet of lined paper from his workbook and set to work with his arm protectively around the paper, keeping a cautious eye out for any more thieving owls.

Just a day later, before he had even finished the new letter, Harry was surprised to see the very same owl coming swooping back to him as he sat back on his heels to have a bite of his sandwich while weeding his Aunt’s begonias.

At first it seemed the owl might have had a change of heart and brought back the letter it had stolen. But when he took the envelope from its beak, Harry noticed _“Sirius Black”_ had been crossed out and below it was scrawled _“Harry Potter”…_


	2. The Reply

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry reads the reply to his letter...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glad to hear so many people are enjoying the story and interested in reading more! Thanks very much for taking the time to comment. Here’s the next part.

 

 

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _I can’t believe I’m really reading this. Maybe I’ve finally gone loopy in here or maybe you’re just as brilliant as your dad and I always were and have found a way to get post owls to deliver to Azkaban._
> 
> _And you’re only six! Six already. I can’t believe it. Time flies. It seems like only yesterday you were a chubby little baby chewing on my finger._
> 
> _I more than knew your parents, Harry. They were my best friends. My family really. Your dad was like a brother to me - we finished each other’s sentences, always knew what each other was thinking, people used to say you never saw one of us without the other. Your grandparents took more care of me than my own parents ever did. I’m an honorary Potter, you know._
> 
> _You won’t remember it but I know you too, Harry. I’ve known you since you were fifteen minutes old – first person to see you, other than your dad of course. You were sick all down my favourite jacket and I thought you were fantastic. Loved you on the spot. I am SO glad to hear from you._
> 
> _First things first: are you okay?! The aunt and uncle you mentioned must be Lily’s muggle sister and that whale of a muggle bloke she married. You haven’t got any other aunts or uncles. Unless you count me or Uncle Moony but he’d only call James a drunk to wind him up. The question is, how did you end up living with them, of all people? Surely there was someone better they could have sent you with? They can't have been short on offers - everyone loved the buttons off you. One of my only comforts is imagining you growing up with a nice wizarding family. I thought the Longbottoms. Lily and Alice got on like a house on fire, she was always over with little Nev._
> 
> _Are your aunt and uncle looking after you all right or does someone need to go and have a word? Not a good sign that you’ve never heard of me and don’t know a thing about your parents. That’s an outrage. Your mum and dad were the best people I ever knew and your aunt should count herself lucky to get to tell you about them. I could kill whoever let you end up there. We heard Lily’s sister was awful but I’m surprised she’s that bad. What have they told you about the wizarding world?_
> 
> _It shouldn’t have been this way, Harry. I expect you don’t know – I’m your godfather. Your parents wanted me to look after you if anything happened to them. If I didn’t get myself stuck in here you’d have been with me this whole time - buying me World’s Best Godfather mugs every Father’s Day, I’m sure._
> 
> _I’m furious I can’t tell you this in person. It’s hard to explain but I’ve been a bit out of it over here for a long time. It wasn’t until I got your letter I was even able to think about all this. I‘m thinking more clearly now than I have in years. I know that makes no sense, hopefully I can explain it better someday._
> 
> _Given the circumstances it might be a good thing no one's told you about me. If you believed some of the things people say about me these days you wouldn’t want to write to me at all. But Harry, I promise you: none of it is true. I can explain everything. The most important thing to remember is I would never under any circumstance betray your parents. I’d have given my life for them. I’d cut my own tongue out before betraying them. Sorry. Probably a bit graphic for a six year old._
> 
> _You’re the first person to contact me here. I didn’t even know it was POSSIBLE to contact me here. If you've not heard anything about your parents then I can't imagine you're in touch with anyone magical because everyone loved them and raved about them, even when they were alive. But if you have ways to contact someone else in the wizarding world like you reached me, see if you can get a message to Albus Dumbledore. Or Remus Lupin. If you can, let me know and I’ll send you a letter to forward to them. There is very important information concerning a traitorous rat named Wormtail that proves my innocence. We need to avenge your parent’s lives, Harry._
> 
> _If we can get them to see reason I might have a chance at getting out of here. Of course soon as I’m a free man I can bust you out of your aunt and uncles' and you can live with me if you want? Like you should have all along._
> 
> _In the meanwhile, I’ve got nothing but time and plenty of stories. It’ll do me good to force myself to remember them actually. What do you want to know about your parents? Ask me anything, I’ll tell you everything I know._
> 
> _Lots of Love, and five years worth of missed hugs and kisses from,_
> 
> _Your godfather,_
> 
> _Sirius Black_
> 
> _P.S. Sorry about my writing materials – not much selection here._

 

The same owl that had swooped his letter away now hopped from foot to foot, waiting patiently while Harry read.

Harry’s hands trembled as he read on. He had family. Living family. Real family, who loved Harry and wanted him and cared about him, like Dudley the other children at school. A godfather who asked if Harry would like to live with him! Harry’s dreams were coming true!

There was a lot of other information in the letter that was very confusing but Harry’s eyes jumped like magnets to those important parts. He was almost deliriously happy.

Harry quickly read the letter again just to make sure he hadn't misread it and hugged it to his chest when he finished. He felt like he could almost feel those hugs at the end through the paper. For a boy with no memory of receiving hugs, it was the most tangible affection he’d ever had.

The owl nibbled on a begonia and Harry had to give it the ham from his sandwich to distract it so it wouldn’t ruin his Aunt’s flowers. He wasn’t sure how long the owl would wait for his reply to Sirius Black and he didn’t want to risk it flying away and leaving him with no way to write back. Who knew what the chances were of another owl who liked to deliver unaddressed letters turning up unannounced.

“Can you…wait there please…while I write my reply?” Harry asked the owl, pushing the whole sandwich towards it. The owl looked at the bread distastefully but hooted in a way that sounded like a yes.

Harry excitedly ran into the kitchen to get a pen and paper and sat at the kitchen table to compose his response. He was grateful the Dursleys had taken some of Dudley’s friends to a water park today and missed the arrival of the owl with Sirius’ letter.

Harry didn’t have time to dwell on his surprise that owls apparently took it upon themselves to deliver unaddressed letters to strangers if you left them lying around. He barely spared a thought that Sirius’ letter was written on the back of his own and the writing was cramped and frenetic, scratched out in a mixture of muddy brown and what looked scarily like dried blood. He would make sure to put a pen and a spare piece of paper in with this next letter. He also made sure to write “Azkaban” beneath "Sirius Black" on the front of the envelope, now that he knew that much. Just in case the owl forgot. It was an owl, after all.

Harry was dizzy with excitement. His legs vibrated against the chair. His hand shook as he wiped off the dirt from the garden and put pen to paper. His whole body tingled with hope and awe and excitement. Someone loved him. Lots, according to the letter. And not just someone - his parents' best friend.

Best friends were even more important than family, in Harry's opinion. Aunt Petunia was his mum's sister but that didn't mean she cared about Harry or his mum very much. His dad had _chosen_ Sirius to be his best friend and Sirius _cared_.

Harry had always wished for an unknown relative to turn up and claim him. Now here one was asking if Harry was okay and saying he thought Harry was fantastic, even when Harry was sick on his jacket. Harry remembered Uncle Vernon shouting once when Dudley was sick and some got on his shoe. He smiled smugly.

Harry was also gratified to read that his dad _wasn't_ a drunk. Sirius hadn't outright said he wasn't but it really sounded like he wasn't from his answer. It sounded like Harry's parents were very nice and people liked them very much - and not just their best friend, Sirius had mentioned multiple people! Harry wanted to tell Uncle Vernon how wrong he was but that would involve letting him know about the letter, which would _not_ be a good idea. It was good enough for Harry just to know for himself.

Around that part of the letter were a lot of the confusing parts - names and words Harry didn't know, things it seemed like he was supposed to understand but didn't. Sirius had said a lot of other people had loved Harry too. Harry’s head spun. What happened? He wondered. Did they change their minds?

Even if they had, he still had at least one person. Sirius Black. His godfather. Harry said his name out loud over and over to himself. “My godfather." "Sirius Black.” It still didn't seem real.

It was like a dream. Harry wasn’t entirely sure he hadn’t fallen asleep on the bench at school and dreamed the owl and the whole exchange. He pinched his arm and it hurt, which he supposed was a good sign.

Harry had family of his own and his godfather was sad he couldn’t be with Harry and cared about how he was and had known and loved his parents. He told Harry he’d come get him one day. _Lots of love, and five years worth of missed hugs and kisses,_ he’d written. _Loved you on the spot._

He was loved. Harry's heart felt lodged in his throat. The words buzzed around his brain. Harry had always assumed his parents loved him before they died but that was just a guess, a hope. This was the first time Harry had ever experienced the word  _love_  directed at him. It was written down. _Twice_ in one letter. He had everlasting proof that someone loved him and it couldn’t be taken back.

Harry’s mind filled with happy images of himself and a faceless godfather away from the Dursleys. It was like those daydreams he’d have where his parents were alive after all or the long lost relative would turn up at Privet Drive to collect him, apologising they took so long to find him. But this time, it was real.

It was the next best thing to having his parents back. For the first time since he could remember, Harry had someone who cared about him. He had a godfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hang in there, it’s not ALL gonna be QUITE this fluffy. 
> 
> Although. To be honest. Most of it is gonna be very fluffy. :)


	3. More Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sirius exchange more letters.

 

> _Dear Sirius Black,_
> 
> _Wow!!! I did not know you were my godfather. I did not know I had a godfather. I wished I had another relative. But I thought if there was anyone else who wanted me I would not be with my aunt and uncle. They always say they got stuck with me._
> 
> _I’m really really happy you’re my godfather. I wish I had been with you like you said. I would have liked that. I don’t know you very well but you already care more about me than my aunt and uncle and you sound nice in your letter. Also if my mum and dad wanted me to be with you then I want to be with you._
> 
> _What is the wizarding world? Is this a joke? Is this Dudley? If this is Dudley stop messing about it is not funny._
> 
> _  
>  _ _Where is Azkaban? Is it in another country? I looked for it on our map but I can’t find it. We only have a road atlas of the United Kingdom so maybe it is on a different map?_
> 
> _I did not understand quite a lot of the things you said, sorry. If you tell me more about them maybe I will understand them. If you do not want to explain things that is okay. I am very happy to hear from you even if I can’t understand some of it._
> 
> _Don’t worry, I will not listen to things other people say about you. I know what it is like when people make things up that are not true and make you seem bad and everyone believes them. You are my godfather. My mum and dad chose you to look after me. So I trust you._
> 
> _What is a Wormtail? Who are Albus Dumbledore and Remus Lupin? Did they know my parents too? The way I sent you the letter was an owl picked it up by accident. I could try leaving a letter for them near an owl. What shall I write to them?_
> 
> _Where are you? Why did I not stay with you? Why can’t you come and get me now? Are you stuck somewhere? If you are sure you want me I can come there. I would not be much trouble. I am very small and I fit in most places. I can be quiet and I am good at housework. I could even get there by myself if you tell me the address. I have taken the train to other parts of Surrey before with my aunt. Just tell me where you are and I will come. If you are sure._
> 
> _I don’t know if you were being serious or joking but please do not kill Uncle Vernon. I do not want you to get in trouble. Although it would be nice to not have him here anymore._
> 
> _There are lots of things I want to ask about my parents. Were they nice? What did they look like? Did they have jobs? What was their favourite TV programme? What were their favourite colours? What were their favourite animals? How did you meet them? Did they like me when I was a baby?_
> 
> _I said it at the beginning of the letter but I am really really really really really really really happy you are my godfather. I am so happy to have a godfather it is hard to describe it in a letter._
> 
> _Lots of love and hugs and kisses from,_ (Harry felt a bit embarrassed writing this part, but he wasn’t going to not offer hugs, kisses and love when Sirius had written them in his letter. Harry hoped if he wrote them Sirius might write back with some more)
> 
> _Your godson,_
> 
> _Harry Potter_

* * *

 

 

 

> _Dear Harry,_
> 
> _Don’t you dare listen to your aunt and uncle. It’s you who’s stuck with them not the other way around and don’t you forget it._
> 
> _Of course they haven’t told you about magic. Why does that not surprise me? This is going to be a big one and it might seem hard to believe – I can explain it better in person when I can show you – magic is real, and you’re a wizard. So am I and your parents were too. Your aunt and uncle obviously aren’t and I’d guess probably aren’t keen on magic and that’s why they’ve kept it from you. Probably jealous because magic’s great. Don’t see why anyone wouldn’t want it, but then I’m pretty much king of the purebloods so what would I know about muggles?_
> 
> _You’ve probably done some magic before – something strange you couldn’t explain happened. Can you think of anything like that? There’s a whole wizarding world we keep secret from the muggles like your aunt and uncle. Magic is great fun and you can do brilliant things with it - you’ll love it. It’s a lot to go into so I’ll tell you more about it when I can show you. If you have questions in the meanwhile, let’s have them and I’ll try my best to answer._
> 
> _I’m furious I can’t do anything about you being stuck there. I could smash the walls in just thinking about it. You shouldn’t have to deal with them at all. You should be with me. I wish you could just come here but you can’t. No one can. And trust me you wouldn’t want to. Don’t you worry Harry, I’m going to find a way to get out of here and get you. Any time your aunt and uncle get on your nerves just imagine their faces when we ride off on my flying motorbike._
> 
> _Don’t blame you for being confused about where I am - sorry if I’m unclear. Not always thinking clearly in here. Anyway it won’t be on any map. I’m in prison. Wizard prison. Don’t be scared! It’s for a crime I didn’t commit. Someone else put the blame on me for what they did and that’s why I’ve been stuck here. I tried to avenge your parent’s deaths and got caught in a trap. It’s hard to explain in a letter but I promise you can trust me. So that’s why you haven’t been with me all these years, and why you can’t come to me now. I wish you could._
> 
> _As for the other things you don’t understand, I’m more than happy to explain - you can ask me anything! Never worry about that. Albus is a very old man who has a lot of power and could help us if he knew the truth. Remus is a friend of your dad and mine and he knew Wormtail as well as we did - he might be able to help too if he’s still knocking about. Wormtail was our other friend - he betrayed us and is the reason I’m here the little rat and the reason your parents died. We have to find him and make him pay for what he did._
> 
> _I’m glad you’re happy I’m your godfather. Haven’t been much of one these past few years but not too late to start now, eh? No matter what you might hear about me, however awful it may sound, I solemnly swear your dad was my other half. I would have died for him, and I’d die for you, Harry. You’re his son which means you might as well be my own kid. I want to do right by your parents and take care of you. I know I’m not as good as having your real dad back but for what it’s worth, you’ve got me._
> 
> _Speaking of which, let’s get to your excellent questions._
> 
> _The most important first: Your parents ADORED you when you were a baby. Couldn’t get enough of you. You were all they talked about. Always flooing and writing and mirror calling to tell me what you’d been up to - you’d be hard pressed to get them to talk about anything else! (Not that I minded of course, I was always happy to get my Harry update. You being the first kid and James and I being close as we were it really did feel like a group effort)._
> 
> _Your dad actually cried when you said your first word. Although it was “mama” so he might have been crying because he lost the bet. (Only joking!) Your mum used to make up songs and sing them to you and they’d be really good catchy ones and we’d all end up singing them for weeks. I wish I could remember some now. Maybe when I’m out of here they’ll come back to me._
> 
> _I could go on about how much the pair of them loved you all day so on to your next question - I met your parents in school. We all went to Hogwarts, best school of magic in the world - you’ll go there too when you’re eleven._
> 
> _Your dad and I met on the Express – that’s the train that takes you to school. We were sat in the same compartment and we got on like a house on fire right away. We knew we wanted to be mates. He said he was going to Gryffindor and I wanted to be anywhere but Slytherin so I thought I’d give it a go with the hat and bet your dad if I got into Gryffindor he’d have to roar like a lion in the middle of the Welcoming Feast. Well your dad reckoned I was a dead cert for Gryffindor in his considerable opinion but he agreed to the bet anyway because he thought roaring like a lion would be hilarious. I got Gryffindor, he did too of course, and half way through dessert we both roared like lions with a magnification spell so the whole of the Great Hall could hear us. Pissed ourselves laughing and we’ve been best mates ever since._
> 
> _I met your mum in the same train compartment as it happens but we didn’t really become matey until she was going out with your dad. We came as a bit of a package deal, me and James, a two for one. I was one of the last people in school to become friends with her though – everyone loved your mum. No one had a bad word to say about her._
> 
> _You had more questions but I’m running out of paper so I’ll save the rest of my answers until the next letter. Until then…_
> 
> _Lots of love, hugs, kisses, and cheeky raspberries blown at your aunt and uncle,_
> 
> _Your Extremely Handsome, Charming and Modest Godfather,_
> 
> _Sirius Black_
> 
> _P.S. No need to use my full name when you write! We're family, Harry! Call me Sirius, or Pads, like your dad!_

Harry’s mind reeled with the revelations about magic for days. He was a wizard! His parents were wizards! His godfather was a wizard! Harry was still amazed he even had a godfather! To add that his godfather and his whole family were magical on top was mind boggling.

Although in actual fact, his godfather seemed so fantastic and so exactly what Harry had wished for, it was almost easier to believe magic was real than Sirius himself. If Harry could wish such a brilliant godfather into existence it actually made a fair amount of sense that there must be magic in the world.

Despite that, if it weren’t for the fact that Harry _had_ done some strange things he couldn’t explain, he would have needed a lot more convincing. As it was, it took several letters of further explanations and Sirius’ validation on Harry’s strange accidents before he started to believe he and his family were really magical.

One day he, Harry, would go to Hogwarts, the school of magic, just like Sirius and his mum and dad. Harry hardly dared believe that even if Sirius didn’t manage to get out of prison and get Harry, in a few years he could be free from the Dursleys for months at a time while off learning magic! The thought of it was so impossibly silly and wonderful Harry laughed into his pillow about it every night. He wouldn’t fully believe it until he saw his Hogwarts letter for himself.

There were still so many things Harry didn’t understand in Sirius’ letters - words and references Sirius used. Sirius explained very patiently every time Harry asked, apologising for assuming Harry would know. Harry found it very strange to have an adult apologise to _him_. Usually it was the other way around. He had never asked so many questions in his life but Sirius didn’t seem to mind at all. The more Harry learned he found he could go back over older letters and make even more sense of them.

Harry thought it was really awful that Sirius got the blame for something he didn’t do and ended up in prison for it. Harry had gotten the blame for things enough to know how horrible it felt, even without getting stuck in prison because of it, which must surely make it worse.

Harry wasn’t sure how to feel about knowing someone was to blame for his parents dying and Sirius hadn’t given clear details on what he meant yet. Maybe Wormtail was driving the car that caused their car crash? That was sad but did that mean it was his fault? Did he crash the car on purpose? Sirius seemed very angry with Wormtail whenever he mentioned it. If Sirius was angry with him, he must have a good reason to be. Harry’s parents would probably think the same as Sirius, and be angry with Wormtail too, if they were alive. Sirius had said a few times he and Harry’s dad could read each other’s minds. So Harry would be angry with Wormtail too, like the rest of his family. He would help Sirius to find him.

Harry wrote out letters to send to Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore as Sirius had recommended. But before he put them in the envelopes, he had a horrible fear. What if when they found out about Sirius they didn’t believe him any more than the people who put Sirius in prison and then they stopped Sirius writing to Harry?

Harry asked Sirius about this in his next letter and was horrified when Sirius conceded it was a strong possibility. He felt torn over what to do. He didn’t want to let his godfather down in helping him, and he wanted him free so he could live with him, but more than anything, Harry wouldn’t be able to bear losing contact with Sirius completely. He finally had real family, a godfather who loved and cared about him. That had to be protected at all costs.

Luckily Sirius understood completely (as he always seemed to when Harry mentioned things that were worrying him) and said they didn’t have to contact Remus or Albus at all if Harry didn’t want to. They could find another way for him to clear his name. He promised Harry he would think of a plan and Harry happily tore the two letters he’d written into pieces, feeling very relieved.

Their letters continued back and forth. Sirius told Harry stories about his dad and their friends and their school days, his summers with Harry’s grandparents, his parents wedding, Harry’s birth, the times Sirius saw Harry as a baby, even a little about the Order of the Phoenix, and some vague details on the war.

Harry couldn’t get enough of all the priceless details about his parents and Sirius’ words were so lively he seemed to jump out of the page. He jumped around between different topics and stories so chaotically and often forgot what he’d told Harry already and what he hadn’t. It sometimes took Harry several tries to understand parts of the letters. But Harry didn’t mind at all. They were full of so much – so many stories, so much personality, like treasure troves to him. He could read them a hundred times and never get bored.

Harry hugged the letters at night when he lay in bed. He read the lines where Sirius sent hugs and kisses and love over and over. He stared so much at those words he wondered if he might wear out the page in those places.

Sirius made new promises with every letter to do his best to come and rescue Harry as soon as he could. Each time he sounded more sincere about how much he wanted to look after Harry, how happy he’d be to have him. Every time Sirius promised to come and get him Harry got a warm feeling in his chest. He loved reading those parts. He read them over and over. He loved the parts about how much his parents loved him, too. And he loved the stories. He’d often reread a story to himself before bed which would lead to wonderful dreams of his parents and Sirius with Harry there too.

Harry was very impressed at Sirius’ stories - even aside from drinking in the details about his parents like a boy parched, Sirius was really cool! He had a flying motorbike! With every detail Sirius revealed about himself Harry built up a cooler and more impressive picture in his mind. He wondered if the real Sirius could ever possibly live up to the idea Harry had of him when they finally met and then thought he’d be so happy to see him anyway it wouldn’t matter at all what Sirius was really like.

Sirius kept apologising that he couldn’t bring Harry’s dad back and that he wasn’t as good as a real parent and all Harry could write was _You’re good! You’re brilliant!_

Harry couldn’t find the words to tell Sirius that he was more than he ever could have hoped for. He was so beyond Harry’s wildest dreams that Harry had to keep touching his letters to make sure he hadn’t made Sirius up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come soon!


	4. Even More Letters

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Sirius become regular correspondents.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m on a roll so two chapters at once today! This is sort of a part two to the previous chapter. Enjoy!

 

As their letters continued, for the first time in his life Harry started to feel loved and cared about, even if only from a distance. It was wonderful and intoxicating. He felt greedy for more. He imagined getting a real hug or kiss. An affectionate ruffle of his hair like Uncle Vernon did to Dudley. He built a picture of a faceless Sirius Black in his mind, watching his mouth as it formed the words, “I love you, Harry.” Harry felt greedy for wanting more but he couldn’t help picturing it.

 _What do you look like? I keep imagining you and I don’t know if what I am imagining is you._ Harry wrote in one of his letters, wanting as accurate an image as possible for his imaginary Sirius.

In Harry’s mind Sirius was strong, handsome and brave, like the hero of a story. But really Sirius could look and be any way and he would still be a hero to Harry.

Sirius drew a jerkily sketched cartoon of himself for Harry. The Sirius in the picture had black hair like Harry and he was smiling. Harry rested it next to his pillow so he could see it when he was in bed and clutched it in his hand at night. His Sirius. He would look at it when he was sad and immediately grin.

Sirius tried to describe himself in writing in the letter that came with the picture.

_Well I’m not sure what I look like these days, no mirrors in here, but I used to be quite a looker. Black hair like your dad but longer, a bit wavy and tidier. Not that that was hard! James’ hair was permanently messed, have I told you that? He tried fighting it at first. Used to pile on the Sleekeasy’s like nobody’s business  - your granddad invented that stuff you know – messy hair runs in your family - but eventually your dad gave up and declared he was embracing his natural look._

_He made it messier on purpose after that, it became his thing. A James Potter trademark. Loads of kids tried to copy it of course. We were really popular in school, everyone wanted to be like your dad and me. If we said it was cool, it was cool. So James adapted the Sleekeasy’s formula and invented his own hair gel that mussed your hair up instead of flattening it, made it look like you just jumped off a broom. Chip off Monty Potter’s old block, your dad was – always tinkering around wanting to invent things. Everyone was desperate to buy it before we even made it. James roped me in, of course. I was the same way - we came up with some cracking inventions back in the day. I think Sleekeasy’s added the stuff to their line eventually. Your dad took it to the extreme though. Even with the gel in he was always running his hand through his hair to ruffle it up. Every few minutes, like a reflex. Especially when he saw your mum coming._

Harry was amazed. He could hardly imagine a popular person being his **father** , having experienced only the exact opposite for himself because of Dudley. Maybe Harry could be popular like his dad one day. He was quite fun, he thought. He certainly amused himself, because no one else did. If he didn’t have Dudley around, if he had a friend like Sirius, maybe Harry would be cool and everyone would want to be friends with him just like his dad.

Sirius always said he bet Harry was going to be just like James. That was one of his favourite things to say. Apparently Harry was already a keen flier as a baby (Harry couldn’t believe he’d already flown and couldn’t remember it! He couldn’t _wait_ to try _that_ again one day!) had the beginnings of James’ black hair sprouting and used to laugh at Sirius’ jokes even aged one – this was all the evidence Sirius needed and Harry was more than happy to be compared to his father. He hoped he really was like him and wouldn’t let Sirius down.

It was wonderful to feel the connection, the sense of identity. Harry loved all the details he got from Sirius. Hearing about his dad’s unruly hair, he delighted at the thought of another similarity. It used to make Harry feel bad when his Aunt despaired of his hair. Now it was a source of pride. Harry immediately began purposefully running his hand through his hair and messing it up, feeling closer to his dad every time he did it.

It quickly became a habit for Harry as much as it had been for his dad. Severus Snape would one day despise upon meeting him that Harry had somehow inexplicably picked up this most hated trait despite not growing up with James at all.

 _Anyway I used to wear my hair longer than your dad, about shoulder length._ Sirius wrote.

_It’s almost at my belly button now – can you imagine! They don’t cut it here. Got a big long beard now too - dread to think what I look like, must be well creepy. Getting rid of that soon as I’m out, first order of business after having a wash. I used to shave. I’ve got blue eyes, pale blue, more of a grey really. Family trait that – most of my family – the Blacks – have eyes like mine. Eyes like stars, my old mother used to say. Like ice, more like. Hers, at least. What else? Classic pureblood bone structure, if you go in for that sort of thing. Cheekbones that could cut glass, Moony said. And that was before I got skinny in prison. Used to be quite fit and muscley but sitting around here for years I’ve gotten out of shape. My cheeks will probably be hollow like a skeleton when you first see me. I might look a bit scary. Sorry. Muscles waste away if you don’t use them and I’m scrawny on what they feed us here. I hope I won’t look too bad and frighten you but if I do don’t worry, I’ll sort myself out soon as we get ourselves a place to live and I can clean up a bit and get back in shape._

_I’ve done an excellent drawing for you anyway with my amazing artistic talents._ Harry snorted with laughter when he read this. _Your own personal mini Padfoot until the real me can arrive. Have I told you about our nicknames? Mine’s Padfoot, your dad was Prongs, then there’s our other mate Moony, I know I’ve mentioned Moony…_

Harry added all the details to his mental picture of Sirius. He drew pictures on paper sometimes. At break time in school when no one was looking, in his cupboard if he managed to sneak some extra bits of paper that he didn’t want to save for writing letters. Sirius standing in the garden waving on the day he comes to get Harry. Sirius and Harry in their new house. Harry and Sirius flying on broomsticks.

Harry even tried to draw some pictures of his parents from Sirius’ descriptions. For as long as Harry could remember he had wanted to draw his mum and dad and not known what to draw. Now he had so much information from Sirius. He drew his mum’s long red hair and freckles and green eyes. He drew her in the platform boots Sirius said she loved, reading a book about Charms. He drew his dad holding a golden ball with wings and putting his hand on his his hair with Sirius next to him smiling and lots of other boys around copying them.  He drew his mum and dad in their house with their cat and baby Harry. They were all smiling, even the cat. Harry folded the pictures up with his letters and kept them hidden from everyone.

Harry was even brave enough to send Sirius a picture of his parents with one letter, asking if it was close to what they really looked like. Sirius wrote back that the picture was brilliant with lots of exclamation marks and said how happy he was to have it to brighten up the place. There were smudges on that letter as though it had gotten wet in little spots while Sirius was writing it.

After that Harry sent him more pictures – some of Harry and Sirius doing things Harry imagined they’d do when he lived with Sirius one day, some of stories Sirius told him, some of things Harry thought up or imagined like funny monsters or animals. Each time he drew a new picture he either folded it away for Sirius or kept it for his collection.

Sirius’ Azkaban cell was soon covered floor to ceiling in Harry’s pictures and letters. They may as well have been a wall of Patronuses.

Harry took some coloured pencils home from school, one at a time so no one noticed them missing. He sent them to Sirius and asked for a picture of his mum and dad and got back Sirius’ cartoons of his parents and baby Harry to join his black and white cartoon Sirius.

In response to Sirius’ warning about looking scary Harry wrote:

_Don’t worry you could never be scary to me. You’re my godfather._

Harry repeated, “You’re my godfather” a lot - as an explanation or justification for just about anything. It was his new mantra. The new most important fact in the world to him, topping everything else.

Sirius asked Harry to fill him in on his life from one to six. Harry told him all about the Dursleys and Sirius got increasingly furious and as he realised the extent of how miserable and mistreated Harry was.

_A few hours with those Dudsley muggles at James’ engagement party was miserable enough, I can’t imagine living with them. Almost as bad as the Blacks! You have my deepest sympathies Harry, truly. Believe me when I say that I understand growing up with awful people who are nothing like you. Stay strong, we’ll have you out of there soon._

It was easier for Harry to be brave and bear the Dursleys when he had someone to share the burden, and Sirius’ encouragement and support.

Sirius never could resist the fuel of righteous anger and realised he couldn’t wait to go the legal route to freedom. He needed to get to Harry and rescue him from his miserable situation as soon as possible and he’d deal with proving his innocence later when other more important matters were taken care of.

Sirius set to work on a plan. Starving himself to fit through the bars of his cell would take weeks, and the journey down to Surrey would take weeks more, so he had plenty of time to continue talking with Harry, swapping stories, telling him more about magic, and every little detail he could think of about his parents, from the way James’ tie was always lopsided to the ear-splitting pitch of Lily’s voice when she was trying to win an argument. Each letter won Harry further and further over, elevating Sirius not only to a place of great affection in Harry’s heart but to practically hero-like status in his esteem.

Sirius asked Harry what he looked like too.

_I bet you’re the spitting image of James now. You looked so much like him even as a baby. Your mum’s eyes though._

Harry loved reading this. For weeks afterwards he looked in mirrors thinking  _this what my dad looked like. These are my mum’s eyes._ He wanted to ask Aunt Petunia if she thought that about his eyes too but knew better than to bring it up.

Eventually Sirius was skinny enough to just about fit through the bars as Padfoot and wrote to Harry telling him he’d had enough, he had a plan and was coming to get Harry, warning him to pack his things and be ready.

 _Are you really?? That would be amazing. I won’t get my hopes up in case you can’t think of a way (I know people don’t usually break out of prison.)_ Harry wrote back.

 _Usually? Forget usually! I’m Sirius Black, remember. Have I taught you nothing, Harry?_ Sirius responded. Harry could almost picture him grinning as he read it. He could tell from his writing Sirius must have an excellently mischievous grin.

 _That would be amazing! That would be the best thing that has ever happened to me. I used to dream about my dad being secretly alive or a long lost relative coming to rescue me. I can’t believe it is really coming true. I really hope you are real and not my imagination or Dudley playing a trick on me. If this is Dudley stop it now it is not funny._ Harry wrote.

 _You seem very convinced I’m Dudley. Maybe I am! Chomp chomp, punch punch, whine whine whine. Oh no, have I given myself away?_ (Harry, reading the letter, laughed. Even on paper Sirius was so funny.) _Believe me, I know the feeling of not being able to believe your luck. I remember when I turned up at your grandparents’ for good and they ushered me in no questions asked. My room was already ready for me. Your dad tackled me for not coming sooner. I’m more than happy to repay the favour._ Sirius wrote.

Sirius sent one final letter letting Harry know he was on his way. They decided it would be easier for Harry to disappear from school than the Dursley’s house. He found out his school’s address for Sirius.

_If you see a big black dog with grey eyes telling you to follow it, go with it. I can’t say why here but trust me, I’ll explain in person. Have your things packed and ready to go, I’m not sure exactly when I’ll be able to come._

Harry kept the letters from Sirius along with the one from his mother to his Aunt Petunia and his drawings all together in a bunch and with him at all times in case he suddenly had to leave. Tucked in the waistband of his trousers, under his t-shirt. They were his only valuables. Reminders that he was loved and had a family. He didn’t bother packing anything else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go, Sirius is coming!


	5. The Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirius is coming for Harry!

Harry was on his own in the playground as usual at lunchtime. He was always alert in case Dudley and his gang tried to get him but he had been especially alert since Sirius said he was coming for Harry.

Every playtime at school Harry sat at the edge of the playground where the fence bordered with the trees, just like Sirius told him to.

Waiting. Ready. Just in case it would be the day.

But Sirius said he was coming weeks ago and there was no sign of him. Not even any letters any more. Harry tried to send one to check Sirius was okay and the owl brought it back unopened. That was worrying.

Harry was partly worried about Sirius being okay and partly afraid he might have made Sirius up in his own head out of some kind of desperate loneliness. He missed Sirius terribly. He felt all alone again, like he did before he found out he had a godfather.

Sirius said it was far away, Harry reminded himself. Sirius said he was coming for Harry and he was. Harry just needed to wait a bit longer.

As he was thinking this, Harry spotted movement beyond the fence in the trees. Before his eyes, a giant black dog emerged from the trees and sat right next to the fence. It was so big it could have been a small bear. A very large but very skinny bear. It was a wire fence and the dog peered through intently, like it was looking for something.

Hadn’t Sirius written that Harry should follow a big black dog if he saw one? Harry jumped down from the bench he was sitting on and walked up to the dog.

Harry didn’t know dogs could smile but it looked almost like the dog grinned when it spotted Harry. It jumped up and cocked its head, turning and walking back into the trees. It looked back at Harry.

 _This is it_ , Harry thought. _I’m being rescued._

He didn’t see any sign of Sirius himself, but his godfather had told him to follow the dog, so Harry followed the dog.

Harry looked around to make sure no one in the playground was looking and pulled up the bottom of the wire fence to slide under it. The dog trotted over and grabbed the fence in its enormous jaw, helping him pull it up even further.

“Thanks,” Harry said, feeling a little strange thanking a dog. But he was quite sure the dog grinned again, its tongue flopping out.

He followed the dog into the trees. They kept going as the trees got closer together until Harry couldn’t even see his school any more, couldn’t see anything but trees. Just as Harry was starting to feel a bit scared, the dog disappeared before his eyes.

Before he had chance to worry, a man appeared where the dog had been. He was head to toe filthy, wearing torn stripey clothes and no shoes, his hair reaching long down his back, his beard long down his front, both matted and tangled. He looked like he hadn’t eaten properly in years, skinny as a skeleton, cheekbones sharp and pointy and his grey eyes stood out alarmingly in his worn face. They were staring at Harry intently.

“Harry,” he croaked, his voice rusty like he hadn’t spoken in a long time.

Harry swallowed. “Sirius?” he asked, uncertain. This definitely looked like a man who had just broken out of prison.

The staring man’s serious face broke into a grin, which did wonders for making him look less scary.

“Harry!” he shouted. He opened his arms out wide and even though he was dirty and smelled terrible nothing in the world could stop Harry as he ran over and hugged his godfather.

Harry immediately felt awkward, not at all used to hugging (this was the first hug he could remember having unless he counted the ones from Mrs Figg, which, really, he didn’t). He backed away, looking at Sirius again.

Sirius wasn’t the awkward type and wrapped a warm, if bony, arm around Harry’s shoulders, drawing him back in again.

“Look that scary do I?” Sirius pulled a face at Harry’s expression and Harry blushed and wanted to apologise but Sirius just laughed, a loud sharp bark that made Harry jump.

“Did warn you I might in my letters, didn’t I? Don’t worry I’ll look a lot more human once I get cleaned up and a bit of food in me.”

It was strange after so long writing to a faceless godfather to finally put a face to him. For Harry to hear his voice out loud and see him alive and moving in front of him. He was just as loud and alive as Harry would have guessed from his effusive letters!

Harry had always imagined Sirius handsome and brilliant and heroic, but of course he wouldn’t have cared what the man was actually like as long as he still wanted Harry. But although Sirius was dirty and had been badly cared for, you could tell this man used to be good looking. You could just tell. In different clothes and with a good bath and a haircut he might look like a real hero, like the ones Harry saw in films. His presence was warm and confident, making Harry feel instantly at ease. Even if he looked odd, and his eyes darted around a bit nervously sometimes, he acted every bit as heroic as Harry could have wanted.

“You really came,” Harry said quietly, feeling small and suddenly shy in Sirius’ big presence.

“Course I came. When my godson needs me, I answer the call,” Sirius grinned again. It really did transform his whole face.

He told Harry he’d taken some money on his way there, enough to get a train ticket to another city. Sirius suggested London. When they got there he and Harry could rent a room while they worked out what to do next. Their primary concern was to find Peter, the man who had done the crimes Sirius got punished for and would prove Sirius was innocent. If they couldn’t find him they might have to leave the country and live abroad for a while, Sirius mused, his cheer fading as he sunk into the details of the plan. Harry had never been abroad before!

“I’ll travel as a dog – easier to avoid being spotted. Shame we don’t have a wand to disguise you. They’ll notice you’re missing soon and come looking for you,” Sirius said, but Harry’s attention was caught on one thing.

“You were the dog?” he asked Sirius, amazed.

“Yeah, not bad, eh? There’s your first demonstration of magic,” Sirius grinned, turning briefly into the dog and back again.

“Wow! That’s so…wow,” Harry was beyond impressed.

Sirius clearly enjoyed an appreciative audience.

“Listen, they’ll be looking for you soon so we’d better get a move on to the station,” Sirius crouched and looked Harry right in the eye.

“This is going to be risky. Security on you is probably through the roof. We might well get caught. The most important thing is: Whatever happens, we don’t get split up. No one knows I can be a dog. If we get caught, you make sure you tell them how your aunt and uncle treat you – tell them everything. It’s important they know not to send you back there. But worst comes to worst, at least try and get them to let you keep the dog. As long as we’re still together we can plan something else and I can keep an eye on you, even if I have to lay low and hide as a dog for a while. Do you understand Harry?”

Harry nodded vehemently. He’d only just gotten a godfather. There was no way he was letting anyone take him away.

Harry was becoming rather addicted to Sirius’ pleased grin. It was like the sun coming out on his face. Sirius’ presence was huge, so big and intense the air around him seemed to crackle with electricity. Even though he was no taller than Harry's teachers his energy took up three or four times the space of a normal person. His eyes gleamed in the shade of the trees. Even hoarse from underuse his voice carried loudly. He would have been very intimidating and scary if he wasn’t Sirius, Harry’s godfather, the man who’d been writing that he loved Harry and telling him about his parents for months.

“Tell you what, I could murder a fry up. Soon as we get to London let’s find a muggle caf’ with some outdoor seating and buy two, eh?” Sirius’ stomach growled as if to make its point.

“Okay,” Harry said eagerly. He wasn’t exactly sure what a muggle caff was but he was always a bit hungry himself and Sirius seemed to have no problem leading the way.

“I’ve got some cheese sandwiches back at school if you want one?” Harry offered, tentatively. Sirius looked touched but shook his head.

“Better get out of here sharpish, but thanks mate,” Sirius clapped Harry on the shoulder again. Harry had seen other families touch each other casually like a lot this but it was a strange new feeling to have it happen so much to him.

“Here, take this muggle money,” Sirius passed him a handful of bank notes. Harry didn’t think he’d ever held so much money before!

“One way ticket to London, you got it?” Sirius asked, looking Harry right in the eye again.

Sirius had a very intense way of looking at you. Harry had never had so much attention focussed on him before. It was an expectant look that made Harry want to rise to whatever challenge Sirius might throw out next.

“Got it,” Harry nodded eagerly.

“Right, follow me then,” and Sirius turned into a dog once more and took off through the trees towards the road.

* * *

 

As it turned out, they did get caught, rather quickly.

The boy and his dog were stopped on the train heading to London. It was some small comfort to Sirius that security around Harry was apparently very tight.

They were taken to a normal Police Station but the policemen in the room they went into were all wearing funny purple dresses. Harry tried to tell them about the Dursleys like Sirius told him to. They listened and nodded but it made no difference.

They were all very, very insistent that Harry go back to the Dursleys.

“Okay,” Harry said. “I’ll go back there. But only if I can keep the dog.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As a side note based on a comment I received on this chapter asking why they didn't go to Grimmauld Place, I've never understood why so many fics where Sirius comes to get Harry have them heading immediately for Grimmauld Place. It's a useful magical location for potential plots I suppose but character-wise in canon it's the last place Sirius wanted to be! The first place he headed when he was free was abroad or to Lupin's. As far as we know he only ever set foot in Grimmauld Place at other peoples' suggestion, for the Order and even then he hated it and couldn't wait to get out. There's no reason to believe he'd ever decide to go there of his own volition. 
> 
> That's not even mentioning that we can assume immediately out of prison he'd have no idea if any of his family were still living there.


	6. The Childhood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry learns what life is like when you live with your godfather.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning - very long chapter ahead! It spans loosely and broadly over several years, so there’s a lot to fit in!

There was even less room in Harry’s cupboard with the addition of a giant black dog, but Harry would happily have slept standing up in exchange for Sirius’ company. 

He turned out to be brilliant fun, and just as kind and nice as he was in his letters. And he didn’t mind at all if Harry used Padfoot as a giant furry pillow to sleep on.

“This is my room,” Harry said, embarrassed, the first night he and dog-Sirius went into the cupboard and shut the door with  _ don’t you go trying anything funny in the night, you hear me? You’re lucky we house you at all! The cheek to run away...  _ Ringing after them in his Aunt’s pinched voice. 

Harry’s stomach started to plummet again at the telling off (the seventh or eighth he’d received since the policemen dropped him back, dog in tow, Harry had lost count) but it stopped when he saw Sirius had changed back into a man and was moving his mouth along with his Aunt’s words and pulling a silly scrunched up face that looked quite like Aunt Petunia. 

Harry had to cover his own mouth as laughter bubbled up and he suddenly felt a lot lighter. Sirius’ eyes were dancing and he winked conspiratorially at Harry and suddenly Harry couldn’t care less what his aunt was saying because his godfather was sharing a private joke with him. 

Sirius had to hunch over to stand up in the cupboard. He looked around, distinctly unimpressed, and forced on what looked like an attempt at a bright smile, though it came across as more of a grimace.

“Well, it’s an improvement on my last place,” he said false-airly. He spun around as much as he could move to take everything in - what little there was of it.

“Bit grim but we can brighten it up. Stick up a few posters, it’ll be practically cheerful!” Sirius echoed, though Harry didn’t know it, the words James Potter had said the first time he’d stayed over in Sirius’ room at his parents’ old house.

The next day Aunt Petunia told Harry he’d have to wash the dog himself which was great fun in the garden after dinner. Sirius splashed a lot and Harry kept remembering he was giving his godfather a bath and starting to laugh and blush a bit each time he thought it. 

Harry was a little in awe of Sirius. He did look a bit scary and thin like he said he would, but as the months passed he put on weight with rest and food and care and began to look striking in a different way. He took long baths and cut his hair and shaved and at some point while Harry was at school managed to get nice clean new clothes. 

Sirius’ old clothes looked like pyjamas that were falling apart. In his new clothes, Harry’s godfather looked like someone from one of the bands on Top of the Pops on telly.

More than even his looks, it was Sirius’ presence and energy that made Harry feel a bit wide eyed around him. When they were alone in the house and he could be human, Sirius walked around with a confident strut that Harry immediately tried to imitate. Sirius lounged against things, leaning back in any chair he sat in so that the legs tilted off the floor. Harry thought his godfather might be the coolest person he’d ever seen.

Harry knew his Aunt Petunia wasn’t  _ old _ for an adult, but his godfather seemed so much  _ younger _ . He seemed like he could walk right up and hang out with the oldest coolest most intimidating big kids at the high school next to Harry’s school and he’d fit right in. 

It wasn’t just appearances either. Sirius knew lots of cool and useful things that he taught Harry, like how to stop Dudley and his gang from picking on him and how to make new friends. Soon, Harry wasn’t dreading going to school every day and was coming home with stories to tell Sirius of the funny prank he and Tom and Ben pulled in the Geography storage cupboard and his team winning at Rounders because Harry caught the ball on every hit and the birthday party he’d been invited to at the swimming pool. 

When Harry accidentally ended up on the school roof one day, all the other kids thought he did it on purpose as a joke and they cheered.

Sometimes his godfather thought about when he was in prison and got really sad. Harry didn’t like that. Sirius would stare at one spot as though he was in a trance and Harry didn’t know what to do to make him feel better. He felt awful not knowing how to help him when Sirius was so good at making Harry feel better. Luckily those grey moods happened less and less as time went by and as Harry grew more comfortable around Sirius he could usually get him to snap out of them by giving him a quick hug.

All of that wasn’t even the best thing. There were two best things. Sirius told Harry all about magic, and Sirius told Harry all about his parents. If Harry thought it was great hearing about them in letters, it was something else hearing about them in person with Sirius as such a charismatic storyteller. Harry couldn’t get enough of either subject, asking for stories every chance he got, listening raptly as though trying to memorise every word, asking for his favourites over and over again. Sirius was happy to oblige. 

As the months passed, Sirius decided staying at the Dursleys wasn’t a bad plan for the time being. They were as decently off there as they’d be anywhere else while they were on the run. Now that Sirius was around to deal with the problem of the Dursleys making Harry’s life miserable, it was a safe enough option for them while they came up with a plan to prove Sirius’ innocence. You couldn’t be on the run in all conditions with a six year old. Even if he was nearly seven and insisted he’d be fine. 

The Dursleys weren’t too terrible with Sirius around to growl menacingly at them whenever they pushed their luck. They still expected Harry to do most of the housework and sleep in his cupboard but Sirius helped make it all quite fun. As long as Harry kept out of their way and didn’t talk to them much, the Dursleys mostly ignored him. 

Harry was perfectly happy with this. He only wanted to talk to Sirius anyway. Most days he couldn’t wait to get in his cupboard so Sirius could change back into a human and talk back to him.

While Harry was at school Sirius investigated the wizarding world, catching up on what he missed while in Azkaban, reading newspapers, going to Gringotts as Padfoot to access his vault. He frequently passed Wanted posters with his face on at first but as time passed with no sign of him, the immediacy of the manhunt wore off. 

Sirius searched everywhere he could think of for clues to where Peter might be hiding, to no avail. 

Sirius healed from the Azkaban damage slowly. Spending time as a dog showered with affection helped. Looking after Harry helped too. He quickly became Harry’s best friend and confidante. 

He taught Harry as much magic as he could without a wand. He went through all the books he could find in his vault, and all the old lessons on etiquette, wizarding history and societal customs he could remember from the tutoring in his youth before Hogwarts. It was sometimes hard to translate them without the fanatical pureblood bent. He’d hated those lessons back then but Sirius was glad to pass what he could on to Harry now so he’d be up to speed with other wizarding kids at Hogwarts.

Sirius shared with Harry what he gathered about the latest state of things in the magical world from lying low as Padfoot, who everyone of note was, and told him about everyone he remembered from the past as his memory recovered from Azkaban.

Harry blossomed under Sirius’ guidance. He gained confidence and humour and playfulness. Sirius taught by example and with advice how to make friends, be confident and stand up for himself. How to be popular and charming and have fun. He helped Harry find his sense of humour and was delighted to find James’ son was really funny.

If Harry thought Sirius was larger than life when he first met him, he became at least twenty times that size as he recovered from Azkaban. The voice that was loud when they first met became booming, his laughter huge bright barks. Harry had never seen someone so confident and sure of himself as Sirius. It was infectious. Once he got started on something he was going in that direction and you just followed, swept up in the momentum. He didn’t even look to see if you were with him, he just knew you were. 

At first it was the kind of confidence that made Harry feel smaller and a bit shy. But as he grew familiar with Sirius it started to become a part of Harry too. Sirius hummed with energy, relaxed and warm and sure. He had a sense of certainty in himself that you felt in yourself by association, of the potential greatness always around the corner, like everything was always exactly the way it was supposed to be and he could do whatever he wanted. Without consciously realising it, and despite his less than ideal circumstances with the Dursleys, Harry got used to just expecting things would go well for him. Any challenge was the next adventure to be tackled. Any problem wasn’t a problem so much as a great new joke for them to share. Harry’s energy enlarged to meet his godfather’s huge presence and his natural friendliness became magnetic like his godfather. 

Whenever Harry felt unsure or shy he would think  _ what would Sirius do  _ and mimic his godfather, acting like he was Sirius, doing his best version of that confident, fun, sure-that-things-would-go-his-way presence that made you want to take notice of him and listen to him and play with him. The effect was amazing. The more Harry did it the more natural it felt to him until he grew into a young boy as oversized and energetic and charismatic as his godfather. As his dad, at that age, even. The two of them were a dynamic duo, two of a kind, again.

Of course being too obviously happy and self assured wouldn’t have gone down well with the Dursleys, who were generally against confidence or happiness where Harry was concerned. They were greatly distressed that Harry had become so popular it became impossible to stop him going to the parties of children in his class. When Harry said he couldn’t go to Will Groves’ birthday, Will changed the date of his party. After Emma Bryant, Andrew Donovan and Lucy Wilson did the same, his Aunt had to concede defeat on trying to curb Harry’s popularity.

So he had to be careful how he behaved around the Dursleys so as not to annoy them even more. It became a great ongoing prank for Harry and Sirius to appease his aunt and uncle while secretly having as much fun as possible. 

Sirius said it reminded him a bit of growing up with his brother in his parents’ house. Harry didn’t ask Sirius about his childhood, only listened whenever he brought it up. He got the feeling Sirius didn’t like to talk about it much. 

They conspired to move Uncle Vernon’s chair a little bit every day so it was never noticeably different but he always missed his reading glasses when he reached for them, making him shout with rage.

Sirius helped Harry make the Dursleys breakfast every day. Each morning he and Harry grinned at each other and cheerfully spat into whichever pan they were using in unison before they began cooking. He helped Harry weed the garden and polish Aunt Petunia’s photo frames and all the other housework Harry was delegated. Best of all he found ways to turn everything into games so they were more like fun than chores. It was like he was back in detention with James again, messy black hair bobbing around, as Harry would laugh and laugh at his antics and then join in with his own. 

It wasn’t just the fun things. For the first time Harry felt like he had family. Sirius took care of Harry, made him feel safe and loved and comforted. He looked after him when was ill or hurt. He hugged Harry when he woke up scared after a nightmare and sat up talking to him until he fell back to sleep. He told Harry he loved him, and that his parents loved him, and what good, kind, brilliant people they were. Harry could never hear it enough, his eyes lighting up every time.

Sirius celebrated Harry’s birthdays with him, little parties of their own in the cupboard. The first year Harry woke up and saw Sirius had decorated it with balloons and handmade banners he could hardly speak. 

And that was before he even noticed the presents. Having someone to celebrate with made Harry realise what all the fuss about birthdays had been. 

When Harry was a bit older, Sirius told him how his parents died and why he’d be famous amongst the other kids when he went to Hogwarts. He told Harry he was special and important not because he was the Boy Who Lived, but because he was Harry Potter, James and Lily’s son, and Sirius Black’s godson, and he would do great things of his own. Harry nodded fiercely and looked determined to try and conquer the world if only to make Sirius proud of him. 

Within a few months Harry fairly hero-worshiped Sirius, an admiration that only grew with time. He was parent, best friend, big brother, role model, hero, and the coolest kid in school all rolled into one. He made everything better and more fun and Harry loved him so very much he could barely remember what it was like without him and couldn’t imagine how he got through a day without Sirius there to joke with and talk to and ask advice from and use as a pillow while he fell asleep.

The money from Sirius’ vault came in handy whenever the Dursleys were being particularly miserable. Harry would head into his cupboard with his stomach empty and growling and find Sirius sat on their bed with five bags of McDonalds or a giant pizza or a big chocolate cake. 

They were usually cold by the time Harry got to eat them because Sirius got them during the day while everyone was out but it was the thought more than anything and the fun of sharing the food with Sirius whispering on his bed that made Harry feel completely full up. 

Sometimes they made proper food when the Dursleys were out. Sirius was a fairly rubbish cook but Harry wasn’t bad and it was fun to see his godfather challenge himself with a curry or throw together a Sunday Roast while pretending to be a TV chef. 

Harry even managed to keep his temper most of the time when his Uncle Vernon said bad things about his mum and dad. Mostly because before Harry even had the chance to say something Sirius the dog had bitten his uncle’s ankles or growled so threateningly his aunt dropped a plate. 

The Dursleys tried to get rid of the dog twice. Both times it reappeared no matter how much they tried to keep it out. 

“Those funny policemen in the purple dresses said I  _ have  _ to keep the dog, remember? I don’t think they’d be very happy if they found out you were trying to get rid of it,” Harry said solemnly to his aunt and uncle, making sure his eyes were very wide. It was a game of his and Sirius’ to see how much Harry could frighten the Dursleys with references to magical things without outright admitting he knew about magic.

After that his aunt and uncle and Dudley were even more scared of the dog and treated it with the sort of wary distance and suspicion you might treat a caged lion you thought was trying to trick you.

Sirius bought Harry as many toys as he could hide in their cupboard, although with Sirius there Harry found he cared much less about toys than he’d always thought he would. Harry didn’t envy Dudley anything at all anymore. He was too busy having fun with Sirius. 

Money wasn’t the best thing to come from Sirius’ vault. The best thing was the pictures of Harry’s parents. The first Harry had ever seen. And they moved! 

Harry was amazed. He couldn’t stop looking. He sat with Sirius’ arm around him listening to the story behind each one, watching young Sirius and his dad laugh and joke around like him and Sirius. He really did look extraordinarily like his father. There were even pictures of his mum and dad with baby Harry, looking at him with more love than he could ever have hoped for. Sirius was there too, slinging an arm around all three of them and grinning the grin that Harry loved so much he could picture it with his eyes closed. 

Harry’s eyes were so wide trying to take in everything in the pictures he didn’t even realise there were tears in them until his vision blurred. Sirius let him have a good cry into his shoulder and had a fair cry himself in the process and even though he was still a bit sad, Harry also felt a bit happy. He definitely felt a million times better than when he cried about his parents on his own. 

When Harry was older and allowed out by himself they ran around in the park a lot. Padfoot wasn’t half bad at football. Even visiting Mrs Figg wasn’t as boring when Sirius spent the day winding up her cats to make Harry laugh.

Harry learned all the rules to Quidditch as a matter of priority, of course. Sirius assured him it was the most important thing his dad would want Sirius to teach him so Harry listened raptly with as much attention as he could. 

Sirius explained the positions and acted out all the complicated plays he remembered Harry’s dad telling him using the action figures he bought Harry and Harry listened until he could repeat them back perfectly, Sirius’ enthusiasm infectious again. Harry couldn’t wait to get on his House Team and make his dad proud, couldn’t wait to get a broomstick, to  _ fly _ .

Harry was on the football and rounders teams at his muggle school. His aunt and uncle tried to have him removed from both teams when Dudley didn’t get on to either of them but Harry was so good at the sports, and by then so well liked among his teammates besides, Mr Lewis the PE teacher absolutely wouldn’t hear of it. 

Sirius came as a dog to all the matches and barked so loud when Harry won Man of the Match and told Harry all the time how proud his dad would be of him. But Harry knew his dad would be  _ especially  _ proud when he got on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

When, not if. He was James Potter’s son and Sirius Black’s godson, after all. It’s not like he  _ wouldn’t _ get on the team. 

Just to be sure Harry got Sirius to practice throwing around a football with him as a Quaffle substitute. He made a ball of rubber bands that Sirius said was the right size for a Snitch and tossed it around or bounced it off nearby surfaces whenever he had a spare moment. It became a bit of a reflex, something to fidget with. Harry even tried to get Sirius to throw bricks at him from the conservatory extension Mrs Figg was building to simulate Bludgers, but that was where Sirius drew the line. 

Sirius’ resolution lasted a good few minutes too, until Harry started cheerfully throwing bricks at  _ him _ for persuasion until Sirius gave in. Then they both threw bricks at each other for an afternoon until they accidentally broke one of Mrs Figg’s windows and decided they were good enough at dodging and had better retire from Bludger practice. 

Unfortunately despite having plenty of money, Sirius couldn’t do anything about Harry’s horrible old clothes while they lived with the Dursleys without arousing their suspicion. 

Sirius promised Harry he would have an impeccably fitting wardrobe in his trunk when he set off for Hogwarts. Meanwhile he showed Harry how to tuck his oversized clothes stylishly so they looked almost intentionally baggy. Between that and the confident strut and swagger Harry was picking up from Sirius he just about pulled Dudley’s old cast-offs off as a style. A few of his friends in school even came in wearing oversized t-shirts just like Harry’s sometimes. When they did Harry absolutely glowed inside, ruffling his hair and feeling proud to be a trendsetter, just like his dad. 

Sirius had been living with him for nearly a year when Harry noticed Father’s Day posters in the shops. For the first time ever they made him feel warm and happy, not sad and lonely. Harry wished he had money to buy Sirius one of those mugs. He settled for giving him the handmade card he had to make in school. Harry felt wonderfully ordinary for the first time ever that year making his card with all the other children, writing inside it all the reasons he was thankful and knowing he’d have someone to give it to after school who would be happy to receive it. 

One day early in the first year living at Privet Drive Sirius was helping Harry clean the sofa cushions while the Dursleys were out and Harry, usually not much of a complainer, was in a particularly grumpy mood at having to do housework. He wasn’t even cheered up by Sirius instigating bumper car fights with the sofa cushions. 

“Cheer up, one day we’ll have our own house and we can do whatever we want,” Sirius grinned. 

For a second Sirius remembered lying in the Gryffindor dorm with James, both squashed onto James’ bed, a Snitch soaring around above them, daydreaming about the flat they were going to rent the moment they graduated, but he blinked and it was Harry again. He was with Harry in a muggle house in Surrey.

“Really?” Harry looked just as eager as sixteen year old James. 

Sirius plonked himself on the newly cleaned sofa and patted the cushion beside him in welcome. Harry came to sit by him, a little shyly, but he came. He didn’t lean away, gravitating towards Sirius’ natural warmth. 

“If you could have any kind of house in the world, what would it be like?” Sirius asked, leaning back on the sofa with his hands behind his head and looking up at the ceiling.

Harry leaned back next to him and if Sirius looked only out of the corner of his eye at the messy black hair and blurry profile, he was lying next to James again. His heart broke and swelled with love at the same time.

“Hmm,” Harry thought. “Big windows. Our own rooms. No cupboards under the stairs,” he grinned. 

Sirius found Harry a sheet of paper and a pen, prodding him to draw the house as he described the features.

”Go on, go on, what else?” at his urging and interested nods, Harry grew in confidence. Sirius found more paper for him as the house plans expanded into an elaborate design. 

“And it’d have a roof that comes off so you can see the stars at night if you want to, like how cars have a sunroofs. A house sunroof,” Harry pointed to his picture.

“Great, great,” Sirius encouraged. “That reminds me, we should sneak outside one night and I’ll teach you the stars. Give you a leg up for Astronomy at Hogwarts.”

“Brilliant,” Harry grinned. This was his response almost every time Sirius suggested something. In his defence, most of the things Sirius suggested  _ were _ rather excellent.

“So a house sunroof then,” Sirius traced Harry’s drawing, smiling at the half size Harry and full size Sirius figures looking up through the roof. “What else?” 

It became a regular project to get Harry to draw ideas and additions for their one-day house. Sirius used it to remind Harry they had something to look forward to when he was feeling miserable. 

“I’m keeping all these, you know,’ Sirius said a few months later, waving Harry’s latest addition, a racing broom garage with space for Sirius’ motorcycles. 

“What for?” Harry asked. 

His Aunt Petunia kept every stupid thing Dudley drew and stuck it proudly on the fridge. Sirius noticed Harry watching her do it wistfully once so he drew a fridge on the wall of their cupboard and pointedly stuck Harry’s pictures on it, which made Harry laugh. Silly as it was, Harry still felt happy when Sirius would make a point of sticking his drawings on the pretend fridge. The imaginary house pictures were too big to fit there though, and there were too many of them.

“Blueprints. For when we design the house. When my name is cleared and we’re fabulously wealthy and famously heroic and well pampered and we build the real thing,” Sirius grinned.

Of course, every great plan needs an appropriately great name, and they named the house  **Harry and Sirius’ Merry, Magical and Most Exciting House of Mischief Mayhem Marauding and Hugs** . 

Sirius promised as soon as they got a wand he’d join all the drawings together into one giant blueprint and charm them like that map he told Harry about.

The name was decided when Harry was seven. A few years later at the very mature age of ten, Harry took issue with the “and Hugs” part of the name one night as they were looking over the plans while Sirius tucked him in for bed.

“That bit’s silly now, can’t we take it off? It sounds better ending on Marauding.”

“No, seven year old you was very wise,” Sirius nodded sagely, a mischievous grin forming. “Hugs are very important. In fact I think I need one urgently right now.”

Sirius tackled him with a hug. 

“Sirius! I’m ten!” Harry blushed and tried to shake him off. Harry was heading into his self-conscious teenager phase and wanted so desperately to be as impossibly cool as his Godfather. 

“And a stunningly handsome and talented ten year old you are at that, little Prongsy, my boy. Practically a man. Where do the years go? Any minute now you’ll be tucking ME in,” Sirius grinned. 

“You want me to tuck you in, do you? Happy to Padfoot!” Harry attacked Sirius with the quilt, trying to wrap it around him and trap him in it. In the small space they very quickly ended up in a pile on the floor, giggling. 

“What’s all that noise down there?” Uncle Vernon shouted, throwing a slipper at the upstairs floor. 

This set off them giggling again and Harry just about managed to call, “Sorry, Uncle Vernon!” between their laughter and shushing each other.

As mature as he liked to think he was, Harry still smiled, feeling warm and happy as always, when Sirius kissed him goodnight on the forehead before he turned off the light. 

For his part, Sirius was happy he’d managed to get Harry to the point where he was eschewing parental sentimentality like any other almost-teenage boy. There were moments he’d worried Harry was too traumatised by his early childhood to go through adolescence at the same rate as everyone else. 

Perhaps he was doing okay at being a godfather after all.

 


	7. Hogwarts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry goes to Hogwarts.

Sirius woke Harry up at midnight on his eleventh birthday to whisper-sing Happy Birthday to him. His grey eyes sparkled in the dark of the cupboard, looking almost as eager as they did when he was Padfoot. They didn’t fall back to sleep for hours as they kept excitedly nudging each other.

Sirius sat as Padfoot beneath the Dursley’s letterbox that morning to intercept Harry’s Hogwarts letter before anyone else could. They read it together sat on the bed and Harry asked for all his favourite Hogwarts stories again with new urgency and excitement. Sirius was only too happy to oblige.

The owl that took Harry’s reply had a knowing look in its eye and Harry wondered if it was the same owl who took his letter to Sirius all those years ago. He gave it an extra big piece of bacon as a thank you just in case.

When Harry Potter made his momentous first visit to Diagon Alley to get his school things everyone was charmed by the cheerful friendly bright-eyed little boy enjoying everything with a big black dog at his side. The dog chased off anyone who got too close and charged around Flourish and Blotts pointing out the books Harry should get and dragging him over to different shelves, inspecting them as though it could read.

Harry and the dog stopped to share an ice cream sundae, surrounded by their bags of shopping. Mr Fortescue marveled at how Harry Potter consulted with his dog which flavours to get and generously portioned exactly half of his ice cream into a bowl for the dog, chatting animatedly as they both licked away. _What an uncommonly kind boy_ , Mr Fortescue thought.

Quality Quidditch Supplies was packed as usual with hordes of children shouting _Mum! Dad! Look at this! Look over here!_ There was only one boy shouting to his dog, “Padfoot! Watch me, Pads!” as he shot up to the ceiling on a Nimbus 2000 grinning from ear to ear, and making the shop workers gasp. The dog had to stay outside the shop but it watched closely, jumping up and pawing at the window, barking proudly as if to answer, “I’m watching, I’m watching!”

Harry Potter shook the hand of every witch and wizard who came over to greet him in Diagon Alley. He made jokes to change the subject whenever anyone tried to get too serious or depressing. He even remembered some of his parents’ old acquaintances from Sirius’ descriptions of them. They all told him he was a credit to his parents and Harry beamed.

When the blonde boy in Malkins asked him which house he wanted to be in, Harry puffed out his chest, took a mock heroic stance, grinned and answered proudly, “Gryffindor, where dwell the brave of heart! Like my godfather.”

Tail wagging at Harry’s feet, Padfoot heard the echo of young James to himself and felt his heart break and swell with love yet again.

Harry and Sirius took it in turns to mock the blonde boy’s revolted Slytherin sneer in the cupboard that night, struggling to keep their laughter quiet enough that the Dursley’s wouldn’t hear.

In fairness to the boy, Harry must have looked a bit of an odd case asking his dog which robes looked best on him. But he was hardly _not_ going to ask Sirius’ advice on clothes. His godfather was the most fashionable person Harry had ever seen.

They lay on Harry’s bed the night of August 31st with the Snitch Harry bought in Diagon Alley zooming around their heads, Harry snatching it cleanly out of the air every few minutes and grinning each time he did. Sirius felt a bittersweet nostalgia for James wash over him, though not as strong as it used to be. He wasn’t in the Gryffindor dorm on James’ or his bed, he was on the little mattress in their cupboard and it was Harry who was whispering excitedly about going off to Hogwarts tomorrow, green eyes shining in the dim light.

The next morning Harry made breakfast with Sirius as usual, then slipped off to get dressed and get his trunk, stomach fizzing with excitement. The Dursleys didn’t even notice. This was it. He was really going to learn magic at Hogwarts, just like his mum and dad and Sirius.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Harry nudged his godfather as they looked at his trunk. “We could dress you up as a giant cat and see how long it takes people to notice.”

Sirius laughed so loudly the Dursleys probably heard, but it didn’t really matter anymore.

“Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I’m Sirius Black, aren’t I? If your aunt and uncle chuck me out I’ll find somewhere else for a bit. Go have fun, I’ll see you at Christmas.”

The Dursleys were very surprised when Harry reappeared in the kitchen in a travelling cloak, trunk in hand.

“Right, I’m off then,” he announced casually, grinning.

Dudley looked confused but didn’t stop shoveling food in his mouth. His aunt looked horrified, a gleam of recognition in her eyes as they darted between the cloak and trunk. His uncle’s eyes bulged out of his head.

“Off?! What are you talking about, boy? Where are you _off to_?” Uncle Vernon blustered.

“To wizard school. Same one my mum went to. I’m eleven now, remember?” Harry grinned at his Aunt Petunia who was so shocked she’d gone a shade of grey.

“To _what_ school, boy?” Uncle Vernon asked dangerously.

“Wizard school, Uncle Vernon. Ask Aunt Petunia about it, she tried to go once,” Harry added mischievously, daring to shoot his aunt a knowing look for the first time. She looked pale as a ghost and her mouth was opening and closing.

“Oh I won’t be needing that St Brutus’ uniform, left it on the sofa. See you at Christmas!” Harry added, grabbing a piece of toast from the table and waving cheerfully as he left.

The Dursleys were too shocked to do more than splutter. He and Sirius were on the Knight Bus by the time Uncle Vernon had stumbled after them, shouting down Privet Drive.

When Harry Potter went to board the Hogwarts Express he stopped off first in an alleyway around the corner from Kings Cross Station, where his godfather turned into a person and told him how proud he was of him, how proud his dad would be, laying a hand on his shoulder as they both teared up.

He pulled him into a giant tight one-armed hug and said “Love you, mate,” gruffly into the side of Harry’s head.

Harry still felt warmth overwhelm him every time he heard those words and said “Love you too,” and wiped his eyes on Sirius’ jumper.

Harry patted his pocket to check he had the two-way mirror safely packed and Sirius made sure Harry had enough money for sweets on the train. They raced each other through the barrier between platforms nine and ten, Harry’s luggage creaking precariously as he tried to keep up with the huge dog.

As the train pulled away Harry was waving as frantically as any of the other first years with someone to miss and a big black dog chased the train all the way along the platform.

Harry sat down in his compartment feeling strange to be properly separated from Sirius for the first time in years but excited and eager for people to join him in the compartment so he could make some new friends and have great stories of his own to tell his godfather. Having spent so many years early in his life without any friends at all, Harry appreciated every friend he’d been able to make since Sirius. Having listened to Sirius’ stories for years, he could hardly wait to start his own adventures.

It felt strange too to be wearing nice new clothes that fit properly for the first time ever. Sirius bought these muggle jeans, t-shirt and jacket while Harry was at school. He had more than enough of an eye for style for the both of them so Harry, who had no fashion sense at all, trusted whatever Sirius got him. The clothes felt tight and stiff compared to Dudley’s old cast-offs but he eased into them with his now-familiar confidence, thinking _what would Sirius do_ without even consciously thinking it. Harry caught sight of himself in the train window, arms slung wide across the back of the seat grinning hugely with excitement and even he could mistake himself for his dad.

He and Ron Weasley got along swimmingly raving about brooms and Quidditch. He made fast friends of the Weasley Twins too, when they exclaimed,

“Blimey, you’re Harry Potter!” and he struck a heroic pose and declared,

“That’s me! Even more handsome in person, aren’t I?” wiggling his eyebrows enthusiastically.

Then he added, “Never mind me, you’re twins! I bet you could pull off some brilliant pranks with that.”

“You’re speaking our language, Young Potter,” Fred grinned delightedly.

“Stick with this one, you’re onto a winner here, Ronnikins!” George added, clapping Harry on the back companionably.

“I’ll give you a shout when I think of some good ideas. Looks like you’re in Gryffindor so I’ll be seeing you around a lot,” Harry returned cheerfully, nodding to their red and gold scarves and giving their hands a friendly shake.

Noticing Ron’s grimace at the nickname, Harry waited until they left to nudge him and suggest they charm something to follow the twins around saying “Freddikins" and "Georgikins”. Ron couldn’t help but grin, both daunted and impressed.

“You hoping for Gryffindor too then?” Ron said, and Harry’s scoff at _hoping_ was lost as Ron continued, “Me too. All my brothers have been in Gryffindor.”

Harry knew Ron had seemed a good sort. With his love of Quidditch too he might even be best friend material. After all the stories of Sirius and his dad Harry had an ingrained eagerness to find his own other half. Having a best friend like that must have been almost as good as having a godfather like Sirius. He couldn’t wait to meet his Sirius at Hogwarts.

“Knew you seemed all right,” he nudged Ron, who looked pleased.

When Hermione and Neville came by Harry was glad to meet even more potential friends and warmly ushered them in, tossing them a chocolate frog each and very kindly not making fun when they didn’t catch them.

You got a feel for who appreciated good-natured ribbing and while someone like Sirius would howl with laughter, they didn’t seem like the types who’d enjoy it. Having been bullied for many years himself, Harry never wanted to make anyone else feel like that.

When Hermione introduced Neville, Harry’s interest piqued. “Neville? Not Neville Longbottom?” At Neville’s nervous nod Harry exclaimed,

“Oh, brilliant! Our mums were good friends, apparently. Reckon we should carry it on, don’t you?” and shook Neville’s hand thoroughly.

Neville was overwhelmed but distinctly pleased at what was by far the happiest anyone had ever been to meet him. Harry gestured to the empty seat on the other side of him from Ron and Neville took it quickly before Harry changed his mind about wanting him as a friend. It was nice to find out something new about his mum. His Gran rarely talked about her. Following Harry’s lead Ron leaned across to give Neville’s hand a good shake too.

“Oh, I didn’t think about this. Is everyone going to know each other already?” Hermione asked, dismayed. “My parents are dentists, I won’t know anyone!”

She seemed a bit frazzled and uptight to be much fun but Harry wasn’t in the habit of leaving anyone out. This was something else he knew the feeling of from experience and made a point to never do to anyone else. It was one of the things Harry liked about having learned how to make friends and be popular - it was within his power now to include people.

“Not to worry,” he smiled, “You know the three of us now, that’s a start. Harry Potter,” he stuck his hand out for her to shake and Ron followed his lead again. His enthusiasm was so infectious Neville almost stuck his hand out too, until he remembered he and Hermione were already acquainted.

Hermione returned the handshake, pleased to be treated as one of the gang. Her eyes lit up at Harry’s name but before she could tell him anything about himself, Harry distracted her when he added,

“My mum was muggleborn and she ended up Head Girl so it doesn’t make any difference if you don’t let it.”

“Did she really?” Hermione asked, eyes shining.

“Yeah. I grew up around muggles too so if you ever want to talk about muggle stuff, I’m all ears. Going to miss Top of the Pops and footie a bit probably,” Harry tried, but Hermione Granger didn’t seem to share his muggle interests.

“Who wants to have a go at summoning that toad then? Shall I go first?” Harry brandished his wand eagerly.

With his natural confidence, everyone was happy to let him take charge.

Later, toad in hand, Harry made all three of them laugh when he used spells Sirius taught him to get Neville’s toad and Ron’s rat tap dancing together.

More first years and even a few second years stuck their heads in to see what the fun was about and Harry beckoned them in, excited to meet so many new friends at once, gesturing for them to help themselves to the big pile of sweets he’d bought and saying, “Now who wants to see something REALLY good?” as he tried Sirius’ yodelling charm on Ron’s rat to more laughter and even some applause.

Hermione almost put a damper on things a few times. She was sorely tempted to question whether it wasn’t a bit cruel to make the animals do these things against their will. But, sat right next to Neville, Harry and Ron, at the centre of it all, with Harry bringing her into the conversation every so often, and pleased to be so included in a group of people her age for the first time, she eventually got the hint to relax a bit. She even took a small bite of her chocolate frog, apologising to her parents in her head, but feeling daring and wanting to experience it with the others.

A few other people showed off fun spells of their own, one girl managed to transfigure Neville’s toad into a giant lizard, and soon the cheerful crowd in Harry’s compartment was the life of the party on the train, spilling out into the corridor so much that people could barely pass. Anyone who tried was inevitably drawn in to the group. Some third and fourth years joined in, and even a couple of fifth years stopped to see what all the fuss was about. They showed off some brilliant spells and Harry was delighted to meet chasers and seekers from both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw, showering them with questions about the school pitch.

A friendly fourth year Hufflepuff, Cedric Diggory, produced a crate of butterbeer he’d been saving for school and cracked it open, shrugging and saying he could order some more. Harry pushed between people to clap Cedric on the back in thanks and promised to get some himself and take it down to the Hufflepuff common room some time. He got Cedric to help him transfigure the empty crate into a radio and music filled the compartment to cheers. A few of the prefects stopped by to see what the commotion was but they either spotted friends and decided to stay for a while, or realised it was harmless fun and moved on.

The Weasley Twins turned up with their friend Lee and his tarantula, which proved very popular with the crowd. Fred and George looked suitably impressed with the gathering, which pleased Ron. He was right next to Harry in the middle of it all and Harry often turned to him for a reaction, nudging him and including him in everything as thought they'd been great friends for years. Ron felt his confidence grow by association and was quickly joking right along with Harry like he'd never been nervous to come to school at all. 

The twins dove right in demonstrating spells and tricks of their own that even Sirius would have been impressed with. Harry liked them even more when he found out they were the Gryffindor Beaters. He began arranging times for them to practice with him during first year so he’d be ready for tryouts next year and made them promise to introduce him to Oliver Wood.

Ron wasn’t sure whether to be more amazed at Harry’s certainty and determination making plans for next year’s Quidditch tryouts before he’d even been sorted into Gryffindor or at how easily he was able to persuade the notoriously tricky Fred and George to agree to it all.

Draco Malfoy tried to find Harry Potter to shake his hand but the compartment was so full and lively he couldn’t get anywhere near him. Eventually he left, furious, pretending he wasn’t really interested anyway.

At one point Harry got out his Snitch and started a game of catch with it and people started chanting “Pot-ter! Pot-ter! Pot-ter!” as he made catch after catch.

Although he was certain he was heading to Gryffindor, Harry was happy he was bound to have made friends with quite a few people from every house already. He couldn’t wait to tell Sirius he had already thrown his first party on the train. Before he’d even arrived at school! Sirius would be so impressed. That was one even his dad and his godfather hadn’t managed.

Everyone who joined the gathering, especially the older students, were amazed at Harry Potter’s confidence. Yes, he was the Boy Who Lived, the hero they’d grown up hearing about, but he was still only a first year. Even as the number of people in his compartment grew, he commanded the room. Although he was small and scrawny for his age he took up the space of a much older and bigger boy, so confident in laughing and joking as well as physically - slapping people on the back and nudging them conspiratorially when he laughed as though they’d been friends for years. These habits he’d picked up from Sirius and his constant stream of chat and excited demonstrations of obscure silly spells gave him instant rapport with even the oldest students. Other than his fashionable clothes there was nothing particularly cool about his look - skinny, glasses, terribly messy hair - but he somehow radiated coolness. He was exactly the kind of person you’d expect could have defeated He Who Must Not Be Named as a baby, people thought. If anyone could have done it, it was him. He seemed like there was nothing he couldn’t do or wouldn’t at least try his hand at. He wasn’t big headed at all, just friendly and playful, but when you met Potter you just felt it, there was something great and impressive about him.

When Harry Potter arrived at Hogwarts everyone who’d known him as a baby was surprised and delighted to find he was as happy and well-adjusted as if James and Lily had lived and raised him themselves.

When Harry’s name was called at the sorting people whispered among themselves but only half of it was about him being the Boy Who Lived. The other half was _were you in his compartment on the train? Should have been there, it was brilliant. You should see him with a Snitch, whoever gets him is guaranteed the Cup. He’s a right laugh too, he charmed a chocolate frog to beatbox..._ When Harry grinned to the Great Hall before putting the hat on, plenty of people were smiling back at him and there were even a few shouts of “Go on, Potter!”

Albus Dumbledore confided in Minerva McGonagall how glad he was that it wasn’t the wrong choice to leave Harry with the Dursleys. He’d had his doubts, but Harry was confident, charismatic and charming, taking the wizarding world and his fame in his stride, making friends easily, cracking jokes whenever opportunity presented, and doing very well in classes. From his very first day he inexplicably seemed to know half the school already, waving and shouting greetings to people as he strolled down hallways with a remarkably self-assured sense of where he was going in the castle and unheard of popularity for a first year, even one with a famous name. He was flourishing even more than Albus could have imagined.

Considering Harry never knew his father, it amazed those who had known him how much Harry Potter brought to mind a young, slightly more humble and considerate, but no less exuberant and self assured, James.

It was striking not only in looks, but in disposition, almost to a tee. Even down to his habit of running his hand through his hair, which was especially baffling. His quick bright grin and easy confidence, even the strut James Potter and his double act Sirius Black used to walk around with was well underway, somehow instinctive in Harry.

Though the same couldn’t be said for Harry’s choice of best friend, Ron Weasley, the gangly boy looked like he was giving it his best attempt, watching Harry for cues. This seemed to please Potter, as though nothing could make him happier than finding someone to act in unison with him. Following behind them, Neville Longbottom evoked a similarity to James’ quiet nervous friend Peter Pettigrew to those who remembered him. With a book in hand and a seemingly constant worried frown, Hermione Granger was reminiscent of the other boy who used to go around with them, Remus Lupin. Harry had an even bigger gang than his father with the addition of Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

That first night, Harry huddled with his bed curtains drawn and his blankets over his head, whispering to Sirius in his mirror about all his new friends, all the amazing food at the feast, his plans to practice with the Gryffindor Beaters for next year, his great improvised party on the train.

Sirius was as impressed as Harry hoped, listening raptly with his full attention, and Harry felt a pang of homesickness when he saw his godfather’s familiar sharp grin, wishing he was sitting on the bed next to him like usual so Sirius could ruffle Harry’s hair or nudge him proudly and start a nudging battle until one of them fell off the bed. He felt sorry for his classmates without two way mirrors who couldn’t see and talk to the people they missed whenever they wanted and had to make do with writing letters.

Sirius declared the train party the first of the Harry Potter Party Legacy and they began to brainstorm ideas for how he could top it on Halloween, which they decided was a good occasion for the next one.

Harry beamed as he popped the mirror out of his covers to show Sirius the Gryffindor colours and heard Sirius’ exuberant cheer.

“As if there was ever any doubt,” Harry scoffed smugly, and Sirius laughed and shook his head in that very fond way Harry knew meant he had reminded his godfather of his dad even more than usual.


	8. First Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First year begins!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may be mixing up the timeline of the year a bit in this chapter with the invisibility cloak and the Mirror of Erised being discovered a bit earlier, before Christmas. Just go with it! 
> 
> Sorry it was longer than usual since the last chapter. This one is a good long read, so settle in and enjoy!
> 
> For those of you who were looking forward to seeing how Snape feels about this version of Harry, here he comes...

 

Harry called Sirius regularly under the secrecy of his blankets at night. 

They were used to whispering under blankets in the cupboard at Privet Drive but now that Harry was allowed to do magic, Sirius taught him the privacy charm and a charm to spell his drapes closed and they allowed their night-time chats to grow more animated.

Talking to Sirius that first night at Hogwarts, Harry described the strange professor who stared at him throughout the Welcoming Feast from the teachers’ table, sneering like Harry was something stuck to the bottom of his shoe. 

He looked especially hateful when Harry got out his Snitch and started playing with it under the table to amuse himself during the long speeches. 

Harry had never seen someone glare at him with such obvious hatred. Not even Uncle Vernon, or Piers Polkiss back in the day, had looked at him like that. Harry was absolutely baffled what he might have done to anger the professor. Maybe the man had heard about his party on the train and was very strictly against train parties.

Harry held his head high, doing his best impression of Sirius’ haughty untouchable confidence, and tried not to let the constant staring bother him, but the man didn’t stop. Even during dinner, the glare continued. He barely looked down at his plate. The professor was concentrating on him so hard Harry was amazed he didn’t miss his mouth with his fork. 

Eventually it became too much of a distraction from the “Who do you support then?” and “I’m half and half, how about you?” and “When’s the next party, Potter? Brilliant fun on the train today!” getting-to-know-you chat around him. 

Harry lobbed a bread roll at Fred Weasley, who was gesticulating animatedly a few places down from him, 

“Oi, Fred!” Harry called. “Who’s that teacher at the head table? Far left?”

Fred turned when the roll bounced off the side of his head and Harry nodded to the glaring professor in question. He could have sworn the professor’s eyes narrowed as he did.

“Impeccable aim, Harry!” Fred called back, taking a dramatically big bite of the roll.

“Which teacher would that be?” George, next to Fred, chimed in.

“On the end there….black hair, big nose...looking at me like he’s about to kill me?” Harry couldn’t help but smirk at stating the obvious. A few people around him overheard and chuckled, turning to look over at the professor in question. 

The professor’s glare intensified, as though he could hear them from across the room. Given what he knew about magic, it was likely he could, Harry supposed.

“That’d be Professor Snape,” George supplied. “Don’t take it personally Harry, mate, he looks like he hates most people.”

“Not our biggest fan either,” Fred added. “Speaks volumes for you that he doesn’t like you already!” 

He saluted Harry with the remainder of the roll.

Harry got chatting to a few third years he recognised from the train and found out the professor’s full name was Severus Snape. 

That was how Harry found himself in bed that night on the mirror, after celebrating his Official Gryffindor Status and regaling Sirius with full details of the train party and some of the more interesting friends he’d made, asking his godfather if he knew of any Severus Snapes and why the man might be so miserable, particularly towards Harry on sight. 

Harry was in for a shock at Sirius’ answer. 

He was stunned to find out Professor Severus Snape was  **Snivellus.**

_ The Snivellus, _ evil greasy git extraordinaire, who featured in so many of his godfather’s Hogwarts stories. His dad’s mortal enemy at school, the highlight of so many pranks and duels, inexplicably friends with his mum since they were little, obsessed with her, Sirius told him, like a stalker, even when her kindness and patience ran out and she decided she wanted nothing more to do with him because he’d clearly shown his true colours and gone over to the Death Eaters. 

He’d hated Harry’s dad for no reason at all, Sirius always said. Jealousy, if anything, but mostly just because he was a miserable git with Dark ideas. Harry’s dad was the epitome of Light and beyond brilliant and there wasn’t a single other student who didn’t think so, Sirius assured him. 

Sirius had waxed lyrical on this as a tangent to various stories over the years and naturally Harry agreed. 

Of course his dad was brilliant. Sirius was brilliant and he was Harry’s dad’s best friend, basically his twin. Harry’s dad must be equally brilliant, Harry knew. Sirius often implied Harry’s dad was even  _ more _ brilliant than him in some ways, though Harry couldn’t imagine how that could be possible.

The fact remained, anyone who didn’t like Sirius and his dad must be thoroughly miserable, as bad as his stupid Uncle Vernon. Harry knew that in his bones. The logic was flawless. 

Besides which, according to Sirius, Snivellus ended up a Death Eater after all, very tight in with them. So his dad and godfather had been right about him being evil all along. 

Not that they were ever  _ wrong _ about anything.

The looks the professor gave Harry at dinner made sense now. 

Snivelly must have recognised Harry as his father’s son (Harry swelled with pride involuntarily at the thought), clearly hadn’t gotten any less evil since his own Hogwarts days, and had decided to hate Harry for no reason, just like he’d hated his dad. 

Harry couldn’t believe there was an evil Death Eater teaching at his school! Snape’s expression, like he wanted to kill Harry, could well have been literal!

He decided to brush up on hexes in case Snivellus planned to resurrect the full scope of rivalry he had with his dad, duelling and all, or revert to his Death Eater ways. He asked Sirius for all the Snivellus stories again, and they speculated on the horrible things he might be planning. 

Harry’s godfather, too, was astounded to hear old Snivelly was teaching. Harry was glad for the newly learned privacy charm when Sirius started ranting. His godfather’s temper got away from him very quickly when he got angry.

“I can’t believe he’s allowed out! Among decent society! Teaching kids!” Sirius growled. From the blur behind him in the mirror, Harry guessed he was pacing.  

“Thought he’d have been in one of the cells down from me in Azkaban! Wonder how he pulled that off. They’ve got a nerve letting him around kids, Ja...Harry, really. Filthy Death Eating scum,” his godfather snarled, looking almost unattractive in his hatred. 

Even with his chiselled face twisted up and sneering with loathing, Sirius could never quite achieve fully unattractive.

Harry managed to calm his godfather down a bit by talking about the food at the feast and asking what his dad’s favourite had been to distract him. 

He knew it was up to him to do something on the rare occasions Sirius got like this. Brilliant as he was in almost every way, his godfather was useless at managing his own temper. It was the downside to his godfather’s magnificent passion and relentless energy - which of course Harry wouldn’t change for the world. Harry had a temper of his own, after all, so he understood how it felt to lose control of yourself because of your strong feelings.  

Harry didn’t miss that his godfather was so wound up ranting about Snivellus he almost called him James. 

Sirius did that sometimes, when his emotions were running high. It was almost like a reflex, a habit. It came out without thinking, the same way his barks of laughter and gregariously affectionate hugs and nudges did, and especially if they were talking about or doing something that reminded him of the past. 

It happened less and less the longer Harry knew him, and Harry never minded. He still felt a proud thrill any time anyone at all compared him to his dad, let alone Sirius. But Sirius always felt bad about it if he noticed. Sometimes, like that night, he’d be so distracted he wouldn’t even notice he’d done it.

When they’d talked about food long enough that his godfather calmed down, Sirius broke off from waxing lyrical on pumpkin pasties abruptly to look intently into the mirror, holding it with both hands. 

He told Harry not to worry, that Professor Snape was just a snivelling little worm and Harry was worth a million of him. He promised if there was ever any real trouble he’d come right up there and sort it out himself. 

Harry reassured Sirius he could handle it. 

These were his Hogwarts years. He wanted to make his own stories of victory to share with his godfather, to make Sirius and his dad proud. 

Besides, the last thing he wanted was Sirius marching up to Hogwarts in a fit of rage to defend him and getting caught and sent back to Azkaban.

Sirius could get very unpredictable when he was angry. 

It wasn’t his fault, Harry knew, and he never did anything  _ really _ bad. He just didn’t stop to think things through. Couldn’t if he’d wanted to. Sirius felt so much it was like his emotions controlled him, rather than the other way around. When a strong emotion took hold of him, he was like a storm, a force of nature, completely unstoppable and irrational and something like the danger of being caught wouldn’t even cross his mind. 

It was one of the brilliant, compelling things about Sirius; how much he felt. When you were special to him, when Sirius cared about you, you felt that love and attention immensely, like nothing you’d ever known. It was wonderful and addictive and made you want to do anything for him and Harry felt bad for everyone who’d never felt it. He was so lucky he got Sirius as a godfather.

But Harry wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was the reason his godfather got caught and taken away from him.

So Harry promised he’d be fine dealing with Snivelly himself, made Sirius grin telling him how much the slimy git would regret it if he tried anything, brushed up on some of the best duelling spells Sirius taught him, and glared back at Snape defiantly whenever he caught him staring. 

Sometimes Harry even exaggeratedly ruffled his hair and puffed his chest out proudly in his best impression of his dad just to spite Snape and see his face go tight and blotchy purple. Harry imagined his dad was watching and grinning. 

While Harry would never antagonise someone innocent for no reason, in the way he’d been bullied once, he knew from Sirius’ stories that Snivellus was unquestionably sneaky, mean and evil. A literal Death Eater, one of the group who killed his parents and so many others and tried to kill Harry himself when he was a baby. 

Harry had no tolerance for evil people, just like his dad and godfather. 

Not to mention that anyone who didn’t like his brilliant dad and godfather definitely had something very wrong with them. He thought of Snape like a more severely evil version of Uncle Vernon. Someone so thoroughly unpleasant that it was okay to mess about with them to make yourself feel better if you were forced to have to deal with them.

Sirius guessed the git would have something sly and underhanded planned for Harry’s first lesson with him and was determined to be one step ahead. 

So Harry sat with the mirror in his lap for his first Potions lesson, trying not to laugh as Sirius pulled faces throughout Snape’s big speech.

When Snape drawled, “Mr Potter. Our new celebrity,” Harry probably shouldn’t have asked Snape if he wanted an autograph. 

But it was worth it to hear the muffled bark of laughter in his lap among the laughter in the classroom and glance down at the gleeful look on Sirius’ face.  

Snape really started in on him then, though. 

Harry glanced down as subtly as he could for Sirius to mouth him the answers to the professor’s absurd series of Potions interrogations. When Snivelly finally reached a question Sirius could only shrug at apologetically, Harry took a deep breath, looked up to meet Snape’s eyes and said, 

“I don’t know, Professor. I think you’re confusing me with my mum. She was the Potions genius, not me. I don’t think she’d want you to forget that.” 

He made sure to keep looking Snape right in the eye, even as he saw the colour visibly drain from his professor’s already pallid face. He became almost translucent. 

What was the point of knowing you had your mum’s eyes if you couldn’t have a go at using them to your advantage on gits who were obsessed with her? 

Sirius gave him a thumbs up in the mirror when Snape turned sharply away to start the lesson. 

Harry should have left it at that, he really should have. 

But he just couldn’t help doing a fake cough and whispering " _ Snivellus" _ under his breath as Snape turned away. 

It was something Sirius would have done, or something Harry would only do because Sirius was there, just to make Sirius laugh. Far more unnecessarily reckless and mischievous than Harry would have been by himself. 

Harry put it down to knowing his dad and Sirius would have wanted him to, knowing Sirius was watching in the mirror, and feeling like he should do it for them because they couldn’t. 

The spit flying in his face as Snape screamed at him, so angry he was barely intelligible, and the detention, even though Harry stoically insisted throughout the telling-off that he was " _ just coughing, honestly Professor, careful there, you’ll pop a blood vessel", _ and the renewed screaming after that, was all worth it when Harry saw how alight Sirius’ eyes were with mischief and pride when he glanced down at the mirror. 

Snivellus continued on his Harry-hating campaign with new vigour after that. 

For a while Harry gave as good as he got, unwilling to back down an inch, no matter how hard Hermione tugged on his sleeve and rolled her eyes and let out exasperated sighs under her breath. He didn’t know why she was so against it - Snape had hardly been nice to her either.

It didn’t help that Snape picked on Harry’s new friend Neville horribly too, for no reason Harry could decipher. Sirius couldn’t remember him having any particular rivalry with Neville’s dad. Harry speculated perhaps they’d run into each other when Snape was a Death Eater, and Sirius said it might be possible, but maybe Snivelly was just that mean and miserable to pick on Neville for the fun of it.   

Harry hated bullies and couldn’t help but stand up for his friends. He knew his dad was just the same and would be proud of him, even if he was technically getting himself in trouble. 

But he soon found he was spending the better part of his first month of school in detention. 

At first Sirius thought this was great fun and brought out all Harry’s favourite detention stories. He insisted on Harry calling him from detentions when he could and had one of his softest most nostalgic smiles when Harry sat back on his heels, adjusted his glasses, and pushed his hair out of his eyes to look in the mirror after scrubbing a cauldron, cheerfully announcing it was just like old times. 

Eventually, though, even Sirius thought the detentions were getting a bit much and Harry became fed-up-enough of having them all the time that he decided to take Hermione’s advice and do his best to keep his head down and not provoke Snape. Unless the occasion  _ really really  _ called for it. 

Snivelly was no nicer to him, but faced with the lack of response he couldn’t hand out detentions for no reason at all and eventually they settled into a truce of mutual dislike, peppered with Snape’s unpleasant comments and blatant discrimination against Harry and his friends, and occasional outbursts when Harry really couldn’t help himself. 

Harry complained during his night time chats with Sirius about the unfair treatment and Sirius told him all sorts of fantastic stories that made bearing the insults in class a little easier when Harry could grin to himself and imagine Snivelly upside down with his pants on show. 

He imagined one day, in his last ever Potions class, he’d stage a recreation of that particular event. The thought made him smile when he was trying to ignore Snape’s comments, although he had to be careful of smiling too much or too smugly and reminding Snivelly of his dad. He’d gotten detention for less.

In a stroke of genius, after how well playing on Snape’s obsession with his mum went, Sirius taught Harry to imitate a distinctive scowl his mum used to do. Harry practiced the particular widening then narrowing of the eyes until Sirius said it was uncanny, really. 

He tried it out on Snape after receiving an especially horrible insult. Didn’t say anything, didn’t answer back, just looked him right in the eye and did it. 

Snape went pale again and still as a statue and didn’t speak to Harry for a week after that. Potions was almost nice. 

Harry threw his second legendary party before Halloween as it turned out. 

He and the Weasley Twins got an impromptu one going in the Common Room when he found out about his surprise place on the Quidditch team.

Harry burst to share the news with Sirius. He wanted to sneak off from the party early and call him but kept being pulled back by people wanting to shake his hand and congratulate him, asking him to get out his Snitch again and catch it a few times.

He always thought he’d be a Chaser, like his dad, but Youngest Seeker in a Century did have quite a ring to it. 

Harry was even congratulated and patted on the back by people from other Houses who’d heard about the party and snuck in. 

He spent a fair bit of time engaging in friendly banter with the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin Seekers. He was especially pleased to see he’d be competing against his new mate Cedric from the train. The Hufflepuff Seeker was a great sport and exceptionally friendly and even suggested some inter-House practice sessions and unofficial Friendlies between matches, which sounded like a great laugh.

Ron, Dean and Seamus were amazed, almost speechless with excitement. Hermione and Neville were less bothered about Quidditch but very pleased for him, once Neville returned from the Hospital Wing. Harry could tell Ron was a bit jealous but he did his best to be happy for Harry, and after Harry introduced him at the party to everyone from the House Teams as his best friend, his mood was bordering on ecstatic-by-association, deep in chats with the players. 

Even after the party, Harry was hardly able to stay up talking with Ron in his bed, planning the season and speculating on strategy, from his excitement at thinking how happy and proud Sirius would be when he told him, anxious to slip away and call him as soon as Ron nodded off. 

A first year! Even younger than his dad was when he got on! Without even having to wait for the tryouts!

Harry wished he could tell his dad too. He could just picture his face! 

Sirius was proud enough for the both of them when Harry told him though, cheering and shouting out things to Harry’s dad as though he could hear them and making plans to buy Harry a new broom before he even had chance to unsubtly hint at wanting one.

The fortuitous turn of events came about because of what Harry liked to think of as his very own Hogwarts Snivellus (original Snivelly aside), Draco Malfoy, trying to pick on his friend Neville. 

Just like Snape with his dad, the boy had decided to hate Harry and his friends from the beginning of the year for no reason Harry could discern. While they hadn’t gotten on like a house on fire in Malkins, clearly destined for different houses, their exchange had been pleasant enough. 

But for some reason Draco always had a muttered comment under his breath whenever Harry went by. Or if Harry happened to be near him and said something - cracked a joke or got congratulated by another student - Malfoy would turn to whisper to his gang of mates and they’d look at Harry and snigger.  

Malfoy wasn’t brave enough to say anything out loud, to Harry’s face, at first. Not when Harry was so popular with most of the school, half of Draco’s own house included. He wasn’t stupid enough to make a show of it and confront Harry. But he was always muttering something, scowling miserably, looking resentful, though why Harry couldn’t imagine as he’d been nothing but passingly friendly to the boy.

Harry would have been fine to just leave it. He was happy enough, had plenty of friends, and was used to ignoring muttered comments from his aunt and uncle while carrying on having fun with Sirius. Not to mention he had his hands rather full with tackling the original unpleasant Snivellus. Neville was fine to leave it too, being less inclined toward confrontation in general. Dean and Seamus followed his lead happily, both fairly easy going types and neither of them particular targets of Draco’s ire.

But the comments really bothered his best mate Ron. 

Hermione, too, was naturally confrontational and couldn’t let anything go.

So when Draco started in on Harry’s friends and they started back, he had no choice but to stand by them and make the fight his own. Despite no one knowing why it started, it became known that a rivalry of sorts had developed between Draco and Harry. 

According to Sirius Malfoy’s dad was another big Death Eater, so in all likelihood Draco would end up evil just like Snivelly one day, if he wasn’t already. The language he used, especially about muggleborns, suggested he was well on his way. 

The more Harry learned about Draco, and heard from him, the less badly he felt sending hexes or calling put downs at him whenever he bothered them.

Luckily Draco was so snobbily out of touch, and had surprisingly underdeveloped social skills for someone with a gang of mates that followed him around, it was fairly easy to make him look like a complete prat. He did most of the work himself. 

Altercations usually ended up following a similar pattern: Draco made a petty comment about Harry or one of Harry’s friends which got a bit of laughter from Draco’s little gang, Harry replied with a much better put down that made everyone within earshot laugh at Draco, Draco got angry and drew his wand, Harry drew his in response, and they inevitably ended up exchanging a few hexes until a teacher came along.

It was quite exciting for Harry to put some of the hexes Sirius had taught him into practice, and he quite enjoyed duelling if he was honest, but it did get tiresome how Draco went on.

“Couldn’t afford new robes Weasley? I hear your parents wear sacks around the house,” Draco would say with a sneer and his two chunky mates and the pug-nosed girl who fancied him would snigger and Ron would get all red. 

Then Harry would sling an arm around Ron’s shoulder and, with the air of someone used to commanding a crowd and getting a laugh, shout confidently, 

“All that money Malfoy and you’re not happy unless you’re bothering us. Shame you can’t buy a new personality!” and everyone around them would laugh. 

First years, third years, even passing sixth and seventh years who Harry didn’t know yet would look over and chuckle. There were a few “Nice one, Potter!” and “Good one, Harry!”s called out. 

It was apparently well known what pompous prats the Malfoys were and most people were delighted to see one taken down a peg or two. It seemed Ron’s dad wasn’t the only one Draco’s dad had personally offended. 

Harry would wink and grin at the receptive audience, ruffling his hair for show, and Ron would grin at Harry gratefully and, emboldened, say something of his own to Draco, and Harry would make a mental note to get Sirius to help him get Ron some new robes for Christmas. 

He knew how it felt to have no money, horrible hand me down clothes, and stick out because of it, and wouldn’t wish it on anyone, let alone his best friend. It clearly bothered Ron and the money made no difference to Harry. Between Sirius’ vault and his parents’ he had plenty. 

With Sirius choosing the robes with his impeccable fashion sense, Malfoy’s jaw would be on the floor when he saw Ron after Christmas, Harry grinned to himself.

Then Harry would be distracted from the admiring crowd by Draco throwing a hex and whip his wand out to fire his own at the same time as dodging. Draco knew a fair few hexes but Sirius had taught Harry plenty too and Draco’s reflexes had nothing on Harry’s. 

Harry liked to think those hours of getting Sirius to throw things at him in the park had been practice time well-spent, but in truth it was a natural talent - even completely untrained he would have been excellently quick. He got that from his dad, he was sure of it.

Another time Draco said, 

“You really should keep better company, Potter. Hanging around with a Mudblood? Are you really so desperate that you have to scrape the barrel for friends?” with a haughty sneer on his face. Although he had a similar fine bone structure to Sirius, Malfoy was  _ definitely _ ugly when he sneered.

That comment didn’t get as much of a reaction as Malfoy wanted, either. 

Everyone knew Harry was already one of the most popular people in school, even as a brand new first year, so the attempted insult didn’t make much sense and fell flat. 

Still, Draco’s handful of faithful minions dutifully sniggered like it was a great joke.

Harry felt disgusted when Draco used hateful language like that. He knew for a fact it was a word that had been used against his mum, who he also knew for a fact was just as brilliant as his dad and Sirius, who were purebloods.

Sirius had told him it made no difference at all and anyone who said otherwise wasn’t a good sort. 

Although he tried not to prejudge people, having experienced it unfairly himself, the more people Harry met at Hogwarts, he began to see why Sirius had the awful impression he did of Slytherins. He was certainly right about some of them, if not all. 

Hermione’s eyes filled with tears and her voice got very tight and high as she tried to hold back her emotion enough to tell Draco off - how horrible the word was and that he shouldn’t use it - and Harry felt his temper rise instinctively in defence of his friend. 

She was top of their class, clearly brilliant at every subject except for Flying, and perfectly nice to everyone. She could get a bit bossy but it was always with good intentions, and she’d helped Harry far more than she’d inconvenienced him with it. She was the last person who deserved that kind of name calling. Even if she hadn’t been his friend, Harry felt his inner chivalry alarm go off, sounding a lot like his dad, or perhaps his mum - because he knew they both stood up for people who needed it - wanting to stand up for her. He felt angry on her behalf.

Harry did have quite a temper when he got angry. It wasn’t as bad as Sirius’, and Harry felt a lot less angry and more positive in general since Sirius had been around, a side effect of finally having a relative who loved and cared about him, but he had his moments. 

Sirius loved to remind Harry he got his temper from his mum. Apparently there was no stopping her when she got furious and she could hold a grudge for months, where his dad could be angry at you one minute and forgive you in the next breath.

Harry smiled to picture his mum, red hair streaming behind her like fire, marching up to Malfoy and having a go at him. Sirius loved to reminisce on how colourful and creative she was with her insults.

Hoping his mum was watching and smiling, Harry turned to grin at everyone in the vicinity, addressing them like an audience, and shouting,

“Didn’t anybody tell you, Malfoy? It’s the 90s. Bigotry isn’t cool any more.”

A couple of murmurs of agreement came from the crowd, and they looked at Harry with admiration, which only mad Malfoy angrier.

Harry threw Malfoy an appropriately dirty look to go with it, doing his best impression of a condescending Sirius when he came across something he didn’t care for. 

Although he’d picked up so much of Sirius’ behaviour over the years, the haughty superior look was one Harry hadn’t quite mastered as innately as he’d taken on the charm and swagger. It was almost as though that was something in Sirius’ genes, like his silky perfectly-in-place hair, and couldn’t be taught.

In fact Malfoy, whose mum was Sirius’ cousin, apparently  _ had  _ picked up the genes for it, and was doing a rather more impressive haughty look himself, curling his lip like he smelled something rotten while he said,  

“You’re delusional, Potter. One day Mudbloods like her and Blood Traitors like you will be sorry!”

“I don’t think so,” Harry responded, forcing down his temper and doing his best cocky grin, because he knew it would wind Draco up more and provide a better show for his audience. 

He wanted everyone else on side, after all. He was in the right. He couldn’t have someone going around spouting evil ideas and winning people over with them.

“How well did that go for your dad’s mate Voldemort?” he called back pointedly and a few people gasped at the name. 

A real crowd was gathered now, watching in awe as the Boy Who Lived said You-Know-Who’s name.

“You shut your mouth about my dad! You don’t know what you’re talking about! You think you’re so clever, Potter,” Draco spat, face red, contorting in embarrassment and rage, because he was as defensive of his precious dad as Harry knew he would feel if anyone ever dared try and say something about Sirius. 

Luckily no one knew about his godfather as far as he could tell, so he didn’t have to worry about that. 

“Oh, I _ know  _ I’m clever, Malfoy. I sacked your dad’s mate off without lifting a finger when I was a baby, didn’t I?” 

Impressed murmurs went around the crowd. Harry knew everyone there would be telling their friends at dinner how they heard the Boy Who Lived talk about defeating You Know Who, so he made sure to make it good. 

Generally Harry brushed it off or changed the subject with a joke whenever anyone tried to bring this topic up, not wanting to be known or liked just because of that. But this felt like a worthy occasion to make the most of it.   

“So don’t think I’m about to let you run around school spouting the same old fashioned rubbish, Draco. If you don’t watch it, you’ll be going the same way,” Harry threatened, fingering his wand, and Draco looked genuinely scared.  

“You’re just jealous Hermione’s beaten you on every test,” he added for good measure, and to see his friend Hermione smile proudly.

“Then again, I bet the giant squid could beat you,” Harry added that one for his mum, who he hoped was watching proudly. 

Sirius had told him at least twenty times the giant squid had been one of her favourite go-to insults.

Everyone laughed, and the crowd was big by now, a circle of people around them two or three deep, with more clusters of passers by stopped further back and peering over to see what was going on. Harry was surprised a teacher hadn’t seen them yet.

Draco didn’t even try to duel that time. He was too frightened to have a go after what Harry said about defeating Voldemort and his threat, eyeing him warily, especially with everyone surrounding them, waiting for Harry’s next great move. Malfoy pushed through the crowd, who parted to let him past, and stormed off, muttering to his little gang. 

He looked so scared Harry almost felt bad for him, and if he hadn’t overheard Malfoy mutter the word Mudblood again, Harry wouldn’t even have sent a trip jinx at his back and sent him sprawling across the stone floor, making him cry out in terror, and everyone laugh. 

Hermione frowned at that, but plenty of other people clapped him on the back for it, compliments ranging from “Good show, Potter!” and “Quite right, horribly outdated stuff,” from some of the lads to enthusiastic, “That was wicked, Harry,”s and shy, impressed looks from some of the girls. 

Harry knew those looks. He’d seen them directed at Sirius on the rare occasions they snuck away somewhere in the Muggle world, like a footie match, with his godfather in human form. They meant a girl fancied you. 

Harry had noticed them since the start of school from girls in his own year as well as girls in older years. There had even been some in primary school after Sirius had arrived and shown him how to put down bullies and make friends. 

Harry wasn’t really interested in girls yet, beyond making new friends. He was perfectly interested in girls as half the population of his school, but not that bothered about capital-G  _ Girls,  _ as romantic prospects. The main things on his mind were usually Quidditch, his friends, magic, and Sirius. 

Even though he no plans to do anything about it yet, Harry was pleasantly surprised that the interest was there.

Besides being the most fun and interesting person ever, Harry knew his godfather looked like someone out of a boyband. He was the most undeniably attractive person Harry had ever seen in real life. Girls fancying him made perfect sense. 

But Harry’s own hair was messy, his face long where his godfather’s was sculpted, and he was skinny and short for his age. Not to mention, he was a first year. The blonde Hufflepuff who said, “You’re something else, Potter,” and squeezed his shoulder, must have been a fifth year at least! 

He thought about his dad turning his messy hair into his trademark and everyone copying him. He remembered Sirius’ stories about all the girls who fancied his dad, even though he only had eyes for Harry’s mum. He knew he looked almost exactly like his dad. He’d heard it enough times, not just from Sirius now he’d met other people who knew his parents too, and had seen the pictures for himself.

Perhaps being confident and doing your best with what you had was enough, Harry thought. Maybe being self-assured enough, acting like you looked like Sirius, having fun like you were the next brilliant thing, convinced everyone that whatever you were was as great as you said it was. 

Even with this revelation, Harry was very aware that he didn’t have a clue how to talk to girls in any way beyond normal friendship. 

Due to Sirius’ unfortunate fugitive status making a social life impossible, that was one thing he hadn’t been able to learn by example from his godfather. He would have to think of a non-embarrassing way to ask Sirius for advice when the time came that he wanted to do something about those looks from girls.

In the meantime, Harry got plenty of advice on dealing with Malfoy. He bemoaned the walking attention fog horn and spewer of unnecessary insults that was Draco Malfoy, the blonde tosser from Malkins, to Sirius in their nightly chats. 

He told his godfather how Malfoy seemed to hate Harry and his mates for no reason.

“He’s jealous, I bet. It’s the curse of being perfect, like us, mate,” Sirius declared, tossing his hair dramatically and grinning. 

“The burden of excellence!”

Harry laughed and did a dramatic ruffle of his own hair sighing, 

“Alas, you’re right, Pads! So hard being this beautiful!” to make Sirius laugh.

It couldn’t be that simple, could it?

But then it couldn’t be just that Draco was a Slytherin and Harry was a Gryffindor because Harry was friendly enough with the few Slytherins who’d joined his compartment on the train. 

It wasn’t the world’s greatest friendship, they didn’t have much in common, but he’d shout “Alright Warrington, Pucey, Burke?” if they passed and they’d nod cordially or give a wave. 

He met the Slytherin Seeker and two of their Chasers at his common room party, too, and now they exchanged a bit of cheerfully competitive Quidditch banter and good natured shoving whenever they crossed paths. 

They weren’t exactly friendly lads, Harry wasn’t in a hurry to get an invite over to theirs to play or anything, but they had the sport in common and were fine to exchange a few words with, as long as you confidently held your own.

He didn’t know their thoughts on blood purity but they certainly didn’t go shouting unsavoury things around the hallways like it was okay, so as far as Harry knew, they were decent enough.

Harry hadn’t expected much from Slytherins anyway. He was pleased to have made a few friends there at all. 

Sirius had warned him enough times about Slytherin to make him wary, but Harry tried to keep an open mind just in case they were misunderstood, knowing Sirius was understandably coming at it from his experience with his Slytherin family and knowing from his own experience how horrible it felt to be judged immediately before someone knew you at all. 

But he knew Draco enough to know he really was an annoying plonker. And increasingly spouted things that sounded unpleasant at best, borderline evil at worst. 

Luckily Harry was well accustomed to being hated for no reason by the Dursleys, and now Snivellus too, and the worse Draco became, Harry fell back on his familiar Sirius-inspired tactics of trying to annoy him as much as possible for fun. 

Sirius gave him plenty of commiseration and ideas for revenge and lots of excellent gossip on Malfoy’s family that Harry could throw at Malfoy when they were trading insults.

“On about money again Malfoy? I’m surprised you have any left after your dad had to buy his way out of Azkaban. I wouldn’t go reminding people if I were you. Someone might change their mind and stick him where he belongs,” was one he was really looking forward to using the next time Draco brought up Ron’s family being poor.

He spent many delightful hours giggling with Sirius over coming up with particularly inventive names to call Draco and inventing creative insults especially for him. 

Sirius told Harry his cousin Cissy, Draco’s mum, was horribly ticklish, which Harry happily plotted to try against Draco in future altercations. Sirius helped him adapt  _ Rictumsempra _ into a new, more powerful, tickling jinx. 

After years being raised on stories of the Maurauders’ inventions, Harry felt immeasurably cool co-creating his first modified spell. Full of inspiration and enthusiasm, he tried to get his friends into doing some too, but it wasn’t as fun as doing it with Sirius. 

Ron wasn’t bothered about inventing new spells and was happy just to shout things. He wasn’t good at planning future insults though because he got huffy whenever Harry brought up Malfoy and they ended up having to change the subject.

Hermione was keen on coming up with new spells and found some useful books with suggestions, but she didn’t want to make anything that could be used against someone in a fight because it conflicted with her morals, and was more interested in modifying useful charms. Harry wasn’t  _ against _ that, and they came up with a few great ideas he wouldn’t mind trying, but none of them were of use with their Draco problem. 

The books were also very dense and Harry struggled to get into them as much as Hermione did. As naturally as his reflexes came to him, research came to her. 

Harry wished he could be like Sirius and just somehow  _ know _ everything in the books without having to work hard at it. He supposed a lot of it must come from being a pureblood from a very old family, but even so, it felt like Sirius’ natural brilliance somehow. Given the choice between forcing himself to read and not keeping up with his godfather he’d do the work, of course, but he didn’t relish it the way Hermione did.  

As for Neville, he didn’t want to fight  _ or  _ shout things at Draco, because that just wasn’t the type of person Neville was. Harry didn’t hold it against him. He’d been friends with all sorts of people in primary school and enjoyed each of them for different reasons - naturally his Hogwarts friends would be the same. For his part, Neville seemed happy just to be included in the group as long as he didn’t have to do anything that scared him too much.

Seamus and Dean shared Ron’s opinion on preferring to shout an insult in the heat of the moment over research and planning. They allowed Hermione to assign them tasks but they often got distracted chatting to each other about other things and rarely got much done, much to her dismay.

Every time Draco bragged about his father Harry had to bite his tongue to keep from bragging about Sirius who was easily a million times cooler than Draco’s stupid Death Eater dad. 

It wasn’t worth risking Padfoot but Harry thought one day when Sirius’ name was cleared he’d get his godfather to fly over the grounds on his motorbike just to see Draco’s face.

The funny thing was, with his grey eyes the exact same shade and sharp cheekbones and the aloof attitude, Draco sometimes reminded Harry of Sirius. 

A very blonde, boring, more stuck up, much less fun Sirius. 

He had that intangible haughtiness, that impossibly straight and graceful posture, that disinterested cold flashing of his eyes Sirius got whenever he talked about his family, except that Draco had it most of the time. 

Harry knew he shouldn’t be surprised, knowing their families were related. He wondered how odd it would be if he knew the rest of Sirius’ family, to see how similar yet different the notorious Blacks were to the godfather he loved and idolised. 

It was strange to Harry to be reminded of his favourite person by someone who annoyed him so much. If only Draco were less of a prat, Harry wouldn’t mind being friends.

Having Sirius a mirror call away was incredibly useful during his first term. 

Harry called Sirius to ask questions about homework, got tips to perfect charms and transfigurations and jinxes. He found out who Nicholas Flammel was in one easy conversation. Hermione was amazed, accosting him with questions. Harry found it funny that because no one knew about his godfather, he must have seemed as effortlessly all-knowing to his friends as Sirius did to him. If only. 

He complained to Sirius about the pain in his scar and Sirius promised to research curse scar pain and look into Professor Quirrell’s background and Harry felt a thousand times better already. 

Harry glowed with pride when he spotted Padfoot in the stands at his first Quidditch match. 

He laughed himself silly when Ron, Hermione, Neville, Dean and Seamus told him afterwards how a big black dog had jumped on Snape so violently while he was cursing Harry’s broom that it had knocked over Professor Quirrell too. The dog escaped before anyone could stop it and Snape was walking around with a huge bite mark on his enormous nose for weeks.

When Harry told Sirius Madame Pomfrey thought it might scar, he sounded just like Padfoot when he bark-laughed with glee.

Harry was determined have his own Hogwarts adventures to make great stories just like his dad and Sirius had, and told his godfather all about his new friends and their attempts to break in to Filch’s office to get the Marauder’s Map to help them find out more about the third floor corridor. 

Sirius laughed his head off at the story of the Troll on Halloween and made Harry reenact the whole encounter for his benefit. 

Harry did such a good impression of a Troll with a wand up its nose Sirius got him to repeat that part at least five times, both of them howling with laughter each time. 

Sirius encouraged just the right amount of mischief and caution, and was a great help with his memory of secret passageways in the castle until Harry could get his hands on the map. 

When Harry found the Mirror of Erised he had a particularly teary call with Sirius. Harry brought Sirius to see it and asked him what he saw and they both described the exact same thing – Harry, Sirius, and the Potters. All together and alive and happy.

“It’s not that I’m not happy or that I want them instead. You’re amazing. I don’t not want you. I just miss them.” Harry sighed. 

“I know I don’t really remember them. But I feel like I know them from you. And I just...miss them anyway.”

Even when they were in their less than ideal living circumstances and had the Dursleys as a constant miserable reminder, Sirius had taken care of almost everything Harry could have wanted from  _ parents _ or  _ family _ , in his own unconventional way. 

Now at Hogwarts Harry could usually go quite a long time not feeling sad about his parents, or even thinking about them at all, without realising it, distracted by new classes and new friends. 

Very occasionally, Harry was enjoying himself so much he even forgot to think about _Sirius_.

He always felt really guilty when he'd be nodding off to sleep and hear Sirius' muffled voice calling from the mirror under his pillow, scrambling to answer no matter how tired he was. Sirius was his favourite person, the voice in his head, and he always wanted to talk to him. He felt bad forgetting a call because he'd been busy having fun when his godfather must be so bored stuck hiding on his own somewhere on the run. At the same time, it felt wonderfully _normal_ to be so happy and well-adjusted at school that he forgot to worry about calling his family.   

Since Sirius had turned up it didn’t even feel like his parents were really dead sometimes. 

His godfather brought them to life so passionately and affectionately with such vivid detail and wonderful familiarity (even mixing up past and present tenses sometimes in his enthusiasm) Harry often felt his parents could walk around the corner any minute, laughing at everything Harry and Sirius had gotten up to while they were away. 

But sometimes, it couldn’t be helped. Sometimes it crept up on him. Sometimes Harry missed them even though he hadn’t  _ really _ known them and felt sad he would never have his mum and dad back.

“I know, mate. I miss them too,” Sirius sympathised as they had a little sniffle together. 

Harry didn’t cry in front of anyone else but it was okay to cry with Sirius.

“At least we’ve got each other, eh? We’ll be okay,” Sirius grinned encouragingly. If he was here in person he would be punching Harry’s shoulder, Harry could just tell.

Harry’s vision blurred as he smiled “Yeah, we will.”

“As long as we stick together,” Sirius’ smile was infectious. Almost as good as his hugs. Harry wished he was here for a hug now but he felt loads better already.

He was so grateful for Sirius. He couldn’t imagine how much worse his life would be without him. 

They’d crept away under the invisibility cloak, whispering a game in which Sirius gave clues and Harry tried to guess his Christmas presents, before Dumbledore even arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I personally really like the characters of Snape and Draco! Sadly there's no way the Harry of this AU could be instant jolly pals with them, having spent years idolising every word out of Sirius' mouth. A Sirius who went straight to prison only a few years out of school and still has a fair bit of maturing to do himself! If it helps, imagine them all shaking hands and getting along between scenes in the outtakes :)

**Author's Note:**

> What do you think? Fun idea? Want more? I have this story very well planned out, just need to do a bit of editing and tweaking, so updates should be very regular.
> 
> If you're a fan of fluff brace yourself, this story is pretty much shameless fluff and feel-good all the way!
> 
> Also, I may be taking liberties with a six year old's intelligence - I don't really know how clever and articulate one would be. If Harry's a bit advanced for his age let's go with it for the sake of the story. :)


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